Fool For You
by ConflictedCalypso
Summary: A collection of various Emison prompts: missing moments from episodes, alternate endings etc. Rating changed.
1. Stay

**A/N:**

**Okay, so I've been writing Emison ficlets on my tumblr (ofendlesswonder if you want the url), for about three weeks now and figure it's easier for people to read and keep track of them if they're all in one place.**

**This will be updated fairly quickly right away with all the ones I've written so far, and then more slowly as I add more.**

**The rating of each story is likely to be different, so I'll put that at the beginning of each one, along with the prompts used.**

* * *

**Title: Stay**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: The kissing scene from 5x05 in Alison's POV.**

* * *

She hadn't thought that it would be this difficult, coming back. She wasn't _naive_, she knew that it wouldn't be _easy_, that it wouldn't be like she never left at all, because two years is a _long _time, but she hadn't… She just never thought that it would be like this.

She doesn't have anyone, not really. Her Mom is gone, ripped away from her, before they had the chance to reunite – and yeah, okay, maybe they didn't exactly leave things on a good note, what with her ending up buried in the backyard _by _her own Mother but, well… she was still her _Mom_. She still_ loved _her.

And she was gone.

Gone, too, were the friends that she'd had. She'd had her claws in all of them, before – and she knew that was a shitty way to treat the people that she was supposed to love, but she just… It was just _easier,_ because she wouldn't ever have to be alone if she could make them stay.

She didn't have that anymore. And she liked to tell herself that even if she _did _have the means to make things go back to how they had been before, where she'd traded in secrets as if her very life depended on it, that she wouldn't let it happen, because she was _different_, now (and maybe that was just a lie that she told herself so that she could sleep at night, maybe it _was_, but it didn't _matter _because she doesn't have to _worry _about that right now, because her 'friends' don't trust her anymore, and she knows that it's irrational to be angry about that but she _is _and it's… it's a white hot rage that makes her want to lash out, to bring them all down, burn them to the ground, make them feel like she does, but that's not… that's not who she _is _anymore – and maybe if she keeps repeating it like a mantra then it might come true).

She hates that she feels so lonely. Even now, with Emily Fields lying asleep less than a foot away from her, she feels completely and utterly alone. Which sucks, because Emily is the only one – the _only _one – that ever mattered.

She'd thought that telling her that – trying to let her know that she _was _trying to change, that she really, really wanted to be a better person – would maybe make her want to stay, instead of going off with _Paige McCullers _instead, and if _that's _not the biggest insult in the entire world then she really doesn't know what is.

But Emily isn't the same girl that she used to be, scared and so far in the closet that it was a wonder she'd ever been able to fumble her way out. She's not the same girl that had been in love with her best friend, who would have jumped at the chance to do whatever Alison asked of her.

Just like Alison isn't the same girl who had been so deeply, deeply scared of admitting to herself that she'd loved her, too (in as much as Alison felt she _could _love, which isn't very much at all, because maybe she's not _meant _for that, she doesn't feel… she doesn't feel _good enough_ for that, especially not… she just doesn't _deserve _to have the love of someone like Emily, so pure and good and light), and now it's too late, because Emily doesn't want her anymore (well – maybe she does, but she doesn't _want _to want her, Alison knows, because Emily avoids her whenever she can, she can't look her in the eye for too long, and every one of their interactions is tinged with the heavy hand of sadness, and Emily is timid around her, now, and not in the way she'd used to be, when she was too scared to touch Alison in the fear of what might happen), and it stings, much worse and much more deeply than she'd ever thought it could.

She knows she's selfish, to say things that Emily probably doesn't want to hear – about her regrets, about the fact that she wished every day, for so long, that she hadn't been so callous, that she hadn't dismissed away Emily's feelings with a cruel laugh, and some days she hates herself for it, for all the things she's done – but she can't _help _it, because it _hurts_, to know that the brunette is distancing herself, and she wants to cling to what they'd used to have, even though it was probably the most unhealthy thing they could both possibly be doing.

Emily's voice interrupts her brooding, and it's so unexpected that she nearly starts, and the silence is heavy for several heavy seconds as she decides what to do, because she's not sure she can face Emily now, like this, in the muted darkness of a bedroom that no longer feels like her own, because there's no hiding now – there's just the two of them, and suddenly Alison's bed feels much too small, and she's suffocating – but she's moving anyway, rolling until they're facing each other, and her breath catches for just a brief second as their eyes meet because it's been so long since Emily's looked at her so openly, and she can't quell the hope that springs in her chest, much as she tries to quash it (because she'd learned a long time ago that she wasn't destined for good things, only pain and horror and heartbreak, and it was always better, in the end, to stop things like this before they can ever truly begin).

Emily's eyes find hers, and she aches to know what the brunette is feeling – she'd used to be able to read her like a book, and some days she had felt like she knew Emily better than she knew herself – but she can't anymore, has no idea what emotions are swimming behind dark eyes.

When Emily moves, surging forward so that she can press their lips together, Alison is frozen because this isn't… this wasn't _supposed _to happen (even though maybe she wanted it too, maybe that had been one of the reasons why she'd all but begged Emily to stay, because she craves her, now, more than she ever had before, and that's just a cruel twist of fate, in the end, to only appreciate something when it's gone, to want the things that you can never have again, because she'd thought she was giving Emily up, on the day that she'd left town, giving her up forever), and she doesn't know how to _react_, and then there's a hand sliding to her hip, and Emily never _used _to be so bold, and it makes her heart race in a way that it never has before.

When Emily pulls away, her hand instead brushes across Alison's cheek before she presses their lips together again, and Alison makes a decision, then – she _wants _this, and she can _have _it, she can have this one thing, even if it's only for a night, even if Emily doesn't want her in the morning (she knows that it's not implausible, after everything, knows that Emily probably hates that Ali still has a hold on her; she wonders if Emily hates herself even now, as her fingers curl in blonde hair, as a soft sigh escapes Alison's lips as she kisses her back, harder than she'd ever dared to before, and then she decides that she really doesn't want to know what's on Emily's mind, after all).

It's an easy choice to make, really – it's much simpler than she ever would have thought it would be, to just kiss Emily back, to slide one hand across to rest on the brunette's ribs and use it to ease her back against the mattress and let herself settle over the top of Emily's body, her knees on either side of the brunette's hips.

It's never been like this, before – Alison was always careful, whenever they'd 'practiced' anything, that it had been somewhere semi-public, somewhere where she couldn't let things get out of hand, and right now she's regretting that choice deeply because they could have had this so much earlier, but at least she has it _now_, and it's… exhilarating, the way Emily's hips shift beneath her, the hand in Alison's hair tightening to hold the blonde close, and there's another hand clutching tightly at her hip, and Emily's fingers feel like fire against her skin, setting her alight and leaving her to burn ( and she would, gladly, if it meant she could keep feeling like this).

Emily kisses her back with an intensity that surprises her, though she supposes it shouldn't – it's been a long time for Emily, too, and she wonders just how much times the brunette has thought about this, how long she's _wanted _this for – and Alison's breathing is already ragged, as she pulls away from Emily's lips and instead rests their foreheads together, keeping her eyes closed, because she doesn't want to look at Emily's eyes and wonder if she's going to be rejected, if she's pushed things too far (even though she knows that's stupid, Emily had kissed _her_), and she can feel Emily's heavy breaths ghosting across her lips, feel the thrum of the brunette's pulse against the palm of her hand where it rests, curled around Emily's neck.

"I don't want to talk about it," Emily murmurs, breaking the silence, and her voice is pleading and when Alison finally opens her eyes, the brunette's expression is pleading too. "Not until… I can't talk about this yet."

"We don't have to," she hears herself replying, and she hates the way her voice trembles, because even though it's Emily (sweet, good-natured Emily, who would never do anything to purposely hurt her), she hates to show even the faintest hint of vulnerability in-front of others. "We don't have to, not yet."

She means it, too – she knows they _need _to talk about things, _properly_, because they just _do_, but now isn't the time, or the place, and she knows that, if they're not going to talk about what… _whatever _it is they're currently doing, that they should stop, that Alison should roll to the side and try to sleep, because _not _doing that is just going to complicate matters even more.

But she's absolutely powerless to resist as Emily's mouth finds hers again, her tongue slipping past Alison's lips and stroking against her own in a way that coaxes a moan from the back of the blonde's throat, and when she thinks of all the mistakes that she's – that they've _both _– made in the past, she thinks that maybe just one more won't hurt.


	2. All Too Well

**Title: All Too Well**

**Rating: K+**

**Prompt: The window scene of 5x05 from Alison's POV.**

* * *

She knows she's really messed up this time.

She already felt like she was drowning, coming back to find that everyone had gotten along just fine without her – her friends didn't need her anymore, not like they'd used to. She used to be the glue that held them all together, and now… now she felt like she was on the outside, looking in.

And Emily won't even _look _at her, and that's what hurts the most. She could deal with the cold looks from the other girls, the way that it almost seemed like they were just _waiting _for her to mess up, like they'd been expecting it all along (and really, she couldn't blame them).

She could deal with all of that, as long as Emily was still on her side.

Because she was the only one that mattered, to Alison – she loves the others, she _does_, but not… not like she loves Emily, and not a day goes by that she doesn't regret the actions of her past, the way she'd hurt them all, but most of all the way she'd made Emily feel, like she didn't even matter at all, in the grand scheme of things – like she was just a… plaything, for Alison to pick up whenever she was bored.

She can't even blame Emily for thinking like that, either, because it's true. Alison had been young and scared and curious, and she'd used Emily, loved the way the brunette had fawned over her, would jump through any hoop for her, and she had thrived on the attention.

Emily's eyes had always been glued to her, watching her every move when she thought Alison wasn't looking (but she'd always known, had always chased away a smile because she'd loved the way it felt and hadn't ever wanted Emily to look away).

And now the brunette won't even so much as look at her, and it hurts, far more than she could have ever imagined.

"Em, I know I screwed up." She tries pleading, because she can't _take _this for much longer, hates the way Emily's dark eyes focus only on the TV screen beside where Alison's standing, like the crappy movie is more interesting than her – and once upon a time _nothing _had ever been more interesting than Alison, in Emily's eyes, and it just brings home once again how different everything is, now.

Emily's avoided her ever since Mona had shown them that video in the cafeteria – Alison hadn't seen her for the rest of the day, had had to beg her way inside the Fields home (she's pretty sure that Mrs Fields only relented because by that point Alison was close to tears, all her texts and calls to the brunette going unanswered), and Emily had seemed to sense Alison in the doorway before she ever even spoke, had fixed her eyes resolutely in the television screen and hadn't so much as glanced up since, no matter what Alison said.

She knows Emily's hurting – it's clear from the look on her face, because Alison has always been able to read the brunette like a book, sometimes she feels like she knows Emily better than she knows herself – and she doesn't know how to _fix _it, and why does she always have to screw up the good things in her life?

"Em, will you look at me, please?" She tries again, sheer desperation colouring her voice, because she can feel Emily slipping through her fingers and she doesn't… she _can't _deal with that, not after everything else.

Because she can't stop thinking about the night before; it's haunted her mind all day, the memories of Emily's mouth against hers, fingertips brushing against her skin, and she's finding it really hard to concentrate on thinking about anything _else _and it was probably the best night of her entire life and to think that it might never happen again because she'd been so _stupid _and told another stupid lie is just… Sometimes she really, really, despises herself, the way that she finds lying so much easier than telling the truth, and maybe there's something really, really wrong with her, because who _thinks _like that?

"Why wouldn't you just tell us the truth? You know, it's so much easier than lying." It's the first time Emily's spoken since Alison arrived, and she's still not looking at her but hey, at least they're making progress.

Alison can hear the anger in her voice, barely restrained, and she tells herself that at least that means that Emily still _cares_ (which is a really fucking selfish thing to think because Emily is _hurting _and it's _her _fault and all she can think of is herself, and sometimes she wishes she could be a better person, a _different _person, and wonders how many other people wish that she was, too – she wonders if Emily would be one of them).

She can't stop herself from crossing the room and throwing herself down on the window seat next to the brunette, because she has this longing, now, in her chest, just to be _near _her, and still Emily won't look at her; she even shifts, just a little, so that she's as far away from Alison as she can possibly be without standing up and moving.

"I didn't tell you everything because I was afraid that I was going to lose you." Her voice quakes, just a little, and she hates it, hates the show of weakness because it's giving Emily a power over her that she'd never wanted anyone to have.

"_Please_," she all but begs, and as her hand reaches for Emily's thigh she wills herself not to cry, because everything's gone so _wrong _and this time she has no-one to blame but herself, and Emily is still so, so angry but she still manages to look so effortlessly beautiful and it's just not _fair_.

And she can't help herself, then – she needs the reassurance, that they can get through this, that Alison hasn't fucked it all up, even though she's asking for trouble – and lets her fingers brush some strands of brunette hair away from Emily's eyes.

It's a gesture that she's done a thousand times before, because sometimes (even before she'd admitted anything to herself, about the way she felt for Emily, even before the brunette had kissed her, that first time in the library), she just needed to reach out and touch her, make sure that she was still _there_.

And she sees Emily's eyelids flutter slightly under her touch and then she finally turns to face her, and Alison's breath catches because maybe they'll be okay, after all, and she's just so… relieved, that she can't help but lean forward, longs to feel Emily's lips against hers again.

But the brunette is gone before Alison can kiss her, wrenching her way out of Alison's grasp angrily, and she can see from the set of the brunette's shoulders that she's just made things worse, and she lets her hand fall down onto the seat beside her, defeated.

"That's not gonna fix this." It's something that the old Emily would have never dreamed of saying – or if she had, Alison would have immediately laughed it off, because _of course it could fix it_, but she's not so sure it will, this time.

And as Emily turns to walk away she feels the cold, hard sting of rejection for what just might be the first time in her life – and it comes from the one single person that she'd never thought would be able to say no to her, and perhaps it's that that makes it so agonizing.

As her heart clenches painfully in her chest, she wonders if this is how Emily felt, every time Alison had pushed the brunette away in the past. And if it was, she wonders how Emily had ever been able to bear it and, more importantly, how she'd ever been able to forgive her.

If she ever really had at all.


	3. Just Tonight

**Title: Just Tonight**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: Can you do an Emison fic about what happens after Emily saves Ali in her house in 5x06?**

* * *

When she hears the crash she doesn't even think – she just races forward, because if Alison's in trouble then she's sure as hell got something to say about it – and when she sees the hooded figure standing in the middle of the room, she doesn't think twice about throwing herself towards them, because Alison is in _danger _and she _can't _lose her, not again.

She didn't really think it through – when she's shoved roughly against the bookcase it hurts, and when she's flung effortlessly across the room and into the cabinet, scattering glass as she crumbles to the floor, pain razors through her entire body, but none of that matters, as long as Alison is _safe_.

And then they're gone, whoever they were – later, she'll scold herself for not being able to wrangle the hood from off of their head, because as soon as she sees a face then maybe all of this can be over – but for now all that matters is that Ali's okay, and she reaches for her without thinking, arms sliding around her and dragging her closer, and it's only then, when she's holding her tightly, that she can breathe again.

Alison leans into her, hands curling around Emily's arms and she's shaking, and all Emily can do is hold her tighter, and all she can hear is the pounding of her own heart in her ears and Alison's ragged breathing, and she can't help thinking what if she'd been two minutes later? What would she have found?

Would Alison have even been alive, or would it be her lifeless body that she'd be holding instead?

She shakes her head, because that doesn't bear thinking about – she's buried Alison before, and she's not going to do it again – but there's still a cold terror clutching at her heart, ice still running through her veins and she holds Alison tighter, wills herself not to cry, because it's okay, she's here and she's breathing and she's _alive_.

She doesn't know how long they sit like that, on the floor of Alison's living room, wrapped up in each other's arms. _She's _shaking, too, and she can't stop, can't calm her racing heart, and Alison's gripping at her arm so tightly that she'll be surprised if there's no bruise there tomorrow, and her knees are screaming in protest from being in the same position for so long but she can't bring herself to move.

It doesn't even matter that she's mad at Alison for thinking of leaving without telling her. And she _is_ mad, she's furious, wants to scream at her because how _dare _she basically admit that she has feelings for her, kiss her, make her doubt everything that she feels like she's ever known for certain and then just… go? How can she even _think_ about doing that? But she knows how – Alison is selfish, Alison only cares about Alison, Alison would leave the rest of them alone in the dust if it meant saving herself.

Except… she seems different, now, since she came back. And Emily doesn't know if that's wishful thinking, if she's being naïve and seeing a change that's not there just because she's so desperate to see it, but she _wants _to believe it, _wants _to think that Alison's changed for the better, wants to believe everything that she'd told Emily the other day – before she'd wrecked it by lying to her, to them all, and maybe that's all the evidence she needs.

When they do finally move – Emily's heart heavy with regret because it's just easier, to stay there, to pretend that the rest of the world doesn't matter, that it's just her and Alison, together at last – it's only to switch on the light, to see the damage that A has caused, and she sees the red lines on Alison's throat as she tugs at her scarf and she gets angry all over again.

It's frustrating, that Alison refuses to let her call the police because she's just trying to _help _but she's only seventeen, there's only so much she can do, but she can't really say that she blames Ali, considering how helpful the Rosewood police force have been to them in the past.

Not.

But it's not just that – it's the fact that she's still so set on leaving, that she doesn't even _care _enough about Emily to stay, that annoys her more than anything, and it's a white hot rage that flashes through her veins, and she has to take a deep breath to calm herself down.

"You're not going anywhere – at least not tonight," she tells Alison, and she means it, because she has absolutely no intention of letting the blonde out of her sight. She'll sit outside the front of her house in her car all night if she has to, she just… she can't lose her again. Not like this. Not after everything.

They clean up the room in silence – Alison tidying the bookshelf and Emily brushing up the glass, and she wonders how Ali's going to explain _that_ one to her dad – before she takes the blonde back to her place, because she's sure that Alison doesn't want to spend any longer in that house that she absolutely has to, that night.

They call the other girls (Hanna excluded – Emily's still pissed at her, and she knows she should be angrier at Alison than Hanna, because it's Ali that wants to leave but she just, she can't _believe _that Hanna would help her, that she wouldn't _tell _Emily when she knows how much Alison _means_ to her), and she allows herself to relax for the first time since she'd burst through Ali's front door earlier that night, because even though A is back and that drawing of Ali's Mom is super creepy, at least, when they're all there, there's no chance for Alison to slip away, unnoticed.

And then Alison gets that text, basically forbidding her to leave, and she feels… she feels awful about it because she's almost… _glad_ because it means that Alison won't try to run again, and doesn't that just make her a horrible person? Because there's no _good _reason that A can want Alison to stick around, but she just… it's almost a relief, to know that she won't have to keep looking over her shoulder to make sure that Alison's still there, and she hates herself a little for it.

When they're alone again, later, she can't stop herself from thinking about the other night, of being alone in Alison's room – of _kissing _her, properly, for the first time because for once, she wasn't scared of going too far, of being pushed away.

And Alison had kissed her _back_, with a fierceness that she'd never shown before, hard and needy, and it had been everything that Emily had wanted for so, so long and she doesn't… she can't stop _thinking _about it.

And she wishes she could, she wishes she could forget the way that Alison's mouth felt, hot against the skin of her neck, the sound of her moan when Emily's hands had first dared to cup her breasts through the thin material of her shirt, and the way her hips had rocked up into Emily's hand when the brunette had had two curling fingers pressed deep within her – and at the same time she wants the memory emblazoned in her mind, lest a single second of it slip away.

It's all so confusing, and she doesn't know _what _she wants except she's pretty sure that being alone with Alison in her bedroom is probably a really, really bad idea because she's still _mad _at her, for lying and then for nearly leaving and she knows that if she kisses Alison again, if she presses the blonde down onto her bed and lets the rational part of her mind fade away so that she can lose herself completely in Alison, that she'll forgive her in a heartbeat, and she _can't _do that because she needs to be _stronger _than that.

So that's why she asks if the blonde needs a lift home – a not so subtle hint that Emily would rather she leave – and she's frozen beneath the blonde's pleading gaze when she asks if she can stay there, instead, because god, she wants that, she wants Alison, she always has and she wonders if she always will, but that can't happen again, at least not until they actually _talk _about it.

"We'll just sleep. I promise." She hates the fact that Alison can read so easily (she also kind of hates that she's promised because she longs to reach out and touch her, brush her fingertips across her cheek, press their lips together and since when was _Alison _the rational one out of the two of them?), but she can't turn her away – she nearly _died_, of course she doesn't want to be alone – so she relents with the assurance that of course she can, of course it's fine, and starts to get the bed ready, because if she's doing something with her hands then she's less likely to do something that she might regret in the morning.

Not that she regrets what they did the other night. She could never regret that, not with Alison. Being with her like that had been… probably the best night of her life, at least so far; she just wishes that the next day could have gone a little better.

She tucks Alison in, refraining from leaning down to press a gentle kiss goodnight to her cheek, and climbs on-top of the sheets, because she knows she's not going to get to sleep anytime soon. She watches Alison sleep, in the non-creepiest way possible – she just needs to see that she's there, that she's okay, and that she's not _going _anywhere.

More than once during the night she can't resist reaching out to touch her, a hand settling gently on her hip or fingertips brushing blonde hair out of her eyes, and sometimes Alison leans into the touch, a soft noise of contentment falling from her lips that has Emily freezing, terrified that she's woken her up but each time she just shifts before falling silent, and it's only when she does that Emily can breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Halfway through the night Alison rolls over, and it's when Emily's lying on her back beside her – Alison's left arm wriggles its way out of the covers and slides across the brunette's chest, Alison's head burrowing into her shoulder, and Emily's breath catches in her throat, and for half a second she wonders if Ali's really awake and is just messing with her, but her breaths, puffing against the side of Emily's neck, are heavy and even, and her face is relaxed, peaceful in a way that tells her that the blonde is definitely still fast asleep.

She succumbs to the urge to turn her body into Ali's slightly, laying her own arm across the blonde's waist; her hand rests at the small of Ali's back, rubbing in gentle circles through the covers and Alison burrows further into her so that they're pressed tightly together with just the blanket separating them.

Emily's forehead rests against the top of Alison's head and she just breathes in the smell of her shampoo and perfume, still so familiar, even after all this time, and for the first time that night she finally feels relaxed enough to be able to fall asleep.

She doesn't, though – she's still scared, irrationally, that if she closes her eyes when she opens them again Alison will no longer be there. So she stays awake all night, ignoring the disappointment she feels when Alison rolls away from her and onto the other side of the bed in the early hours of the morning, until the sun is rising in the sky and her alarm is blaring.

"Did you sleep at _all_?" Alison asks as she rolls over with a yawn, looking up at Emily through sleepy eyes, and she just still looks so beautiful, even with yesterday's make-up smudged across her face, her hair mussed from sleep – she's still the most beautiful person that Emily's ever seen.

"Of course I did." She's sat up in the middle of the bed with her legs crossed, facing Alison, but it's obvious that she hasn't – her clothes aren't rumpled from sleep the way Alison's are when she pushes the blanket from her lap and stretches (Emily turns her gaze away hastily as the blonde's shirt rides up, revealing a strip of smooth skin), and she probably looks exhausted because she feels as though she could sleep for a week.

"I don't believe you."

"I did a little," she insists, determined to brush it off like it's no big deal as Alison pushes herself up so that she's leaning back against the headboard. Emily sees a flash of red marring the skin of the blonde's neck, reaches out without thinking – it's only when she hears Alison's breath hitch as Emily's fingertips trace across the bruise that she realizes what she's doing and she flushes, quickly letting her hand drop. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," Alison murmurs, voice a little rougher than usual, and she brushes her hair over the opposite shoulder with a frown. "Is it bad?"

"No," Emily answers honestly, because you can barely see the bruises left from her scarf, and they're mostly covered by her hair, anyway. She traces over the mark with a single finger, as though her touch could soothe it away, and pulls back when Alison shudders. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she breathes, and then she's leaning closer, and they're so close and when did that _happen_? And Emily's scrambling backwards as quickly as she can, before Alison can move closer, because she knows the blonde's about to kiss her, and she can't deal with that right now, not on-top of everything else.

"We should get ready for school," she forces herself to say, and when she turns away to go and get something to change into she catches a glimpse of Alison's crestfallen face in the mirror, and her mouth opens to apologise, and she's half-ready to spin around and take the blonde's face in her hands and kiss her until they both forget their own names – but Alison's voice stops her.

"Yeah, of course. Can you drop me off at home before we go so I can change?"

"Sure." And just like that the moment's gone, and Emily doesn't know whether she feels more relieved or disappointed, and she just wishes that things weren't so confusing but she knows that, with Alison around, that's not going to happen anytime soon.


	4. She Is

**Title: She Is**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: Emily walking Alison home in 5x07**

* * *

"Make sure you read chapters nine and ten before tomorrow's class!" Emily breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as her teacher's voice tries to call over the bell ringing through the room, signaling the end of class, and her day – she hates history with a passion, wishes she hadn't chosen it as an elective, and really, it's always a crappy way to end a long day of school.

"You need a lift back to your place?" Aria asks as they both rise to their feet, slinging their bags over their shoulders, because Emily's car decided to give up on her last night and it's in the garage getting fixed, but she shakes her head.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind walking."

"Alright – I'm gonna find Mike and check if he needs one, I'll see you later? I'll try and make it to your place, but I really don't know how long I'll be at Radley for."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Emily reassures her friend with a gentle smile, even though she really, really wishes she could count on Aria turning up later. It was going to be awkward enough, trying not to act like she was… whatever she was, to Ali, these days, in-front of her mother, but with Hanna the only other one of the girls to say she's definitely coming, things could get, well… interesting.

And Emily gets it, she does. It's _hard_, having Alison back, because they can all remember what she'd been like before, and they're not sure how to act around this different version of Alison they see now, almost waiting for her to go back to her old ways, to cut them all down with a few well-placed words.

But that doesn't mean that she's not allowed to be mad at Hanna, for trying to help Ali leave town without telling anyone. And she's mad at Alison, too, for even thinking to leave in the first place, and it hurts, to think that she might not be enough to make the blonde stay.

It makes her wonder if Alison had been telling the truth, that other night in her bedroom, when Emily had finally caved to the thoughts swirling around her head and kissed her. She couldn't even say for sure why she'd done it – sure, she _wanted _it, she's wanted to do it since she found out Alison was still alive, all those months ago, but she'd told herself that she could never act on it, could never let Alison see how much power she still holds over Emily's head, because she was _different _now, she wasn't the same old scared girl who was so desperately in love with her best friend.

Except she kind of feels like she still is that girl, sometimes.

Like she does right now, dodging her way through the crowd of students heading for the exits and heading towards the room where she knows Alison's last class is, because for some unknown reason she's agreed to walk her home.

She just… every time Ali asks her for something, she agrees, and while it isn't like she's asking for anything _major_ it still… sometimes she just wonders if the day will come where she'll be able to say no, because apparently she isn't at that point yet.

But she was still worried about her – after all, she'd nearly _died _the night before, might have done if not for Emily getting to her house at the right time, and she's _allowed _to be concerned, even if she is still furious, because they still haven't _talked _about anything, that kiss or Ali trying to run or the fact that she'd had to stay up all night awake just to make sure that Alison was beside her all night, and it's driving her _insane_.

Alison's not waiting in the hall, like she said she would be, and Emily feels worry claw at her throat for several long seconds because _where is she_ but then she hears the sound of low voices coming from inside the classroom and a quick glance inside reveals Alison stood in-front of the teacher's desk, a textbook lying open upon it.

"What I'd recommend is…" Emily drowns out the sound of the teacher's voice and instead leans against the wall outside the door, messing around on her phone and trying not to think too much about how pathetic she probably looks, waiting patiently for Alison like a sad little dog, and she wishes she could hate herself for it, but she doesn't – can't, not when Alison asks for her, _needs _her, and maybe it's just an act, maybe she should be trying to keep her distance, but she doesn't know _how _to do that.

She never knew how to do that.

"Hey," Alison's voice breaks her out of her reverie, and when she glances up from the screen of her phone the blonde's stood in-front of her, dazzling smile on her face. "Sorry for making you wait, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't." _Yes I do, but I'll never tell you half the things on my mind when I'm with you_, she thinks, biting back a sigh. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I was just checking what I could do to try and catch up as soon as possible." The blonde shrugs, like it means nothing, but Emily guesses that catching up on two years of missed school isn't going to be easy – she knows Ali's smart, almost as clever as Spencer and in some ways even smarter, but it still seems like a lot.

She's struck by the thought of Ali having to be kept behind a year, or even two, wonders what she'd do, alone without her friends to rally around her and help her, protect her, wonders how she'd be able to cope with that, while the rest of them are all away at college.

She thinks of having to leave Ali behind again, and her heart clenches painfully in her chest and she doesn't _want _it, she doesn't want these feelings and these thoughts because Alison is all wrong for her, if she even _wants _her back, and it's not… they're just a walking disaster, in every sense of the word.

"Thank you, for doing this," Alison murmurs as they pass through the doors of the school, and even though all the buses have left people still linger in the parking lot, throw curious glances their way, and Emily feels the way Alison seems to shrink into her side, and this is just one of the things that she's noticed has changed, because the old Alison DiLaurentis wanted to be in the spotlight, at any cost. "I really appreciate it."

"It's fine."

"It's _not_." Emily jumps when Alison moves to link their arms together, her hand wrapping around Emily's wrist. "I know that I keep… I keep asking you to do things for me, and I know you feel like you can't say no."

"I don't –" Emily starts to protest, but Alison just shoots her a look over her shoulder that shuts her straight up.

"You forget that I can read you like a book, Em. I can always tell what you're really thinking." A blush stains Emily's cheeks before she can stop it, because if _that's _true then… well. It's safe to say that her thoughts about Alison aren't always PG-13.

Emily's saved having to explain _why _she's blushing when their names are called – they turn to see Hanna leaning against the side of her car, Spencer beside her, and they're both giving her and Alison curious looks, Hanna's gaze in particular lingering on their interlocked arms. Emily tries to move away, because she doesn't want them to think that she's falling back into old habits, especially when she doesn't really know _what _she's even doing in the first place, but Ali's hand curls around her wrist, fingers pressing down harder, stopping her.

"I'm going to have to head over to Ezra's," Spencer sighs after a quick glance towards her phone as Emily and Ali stop in-front of their friends. "Wish me luck?"

"It'll be fine," Emily is quick to reassure her, but the brunette just shakes her head.

"Oh, yeah, spending the evening with the guy that was _spying _on us for who knows how long? Yeah, it'll be absolutely fine."

"He did take a bullet for us," Hanna points out, looking anywhere other than Alison, who is unusually quiet.

"That doesn't erase the past."

"I guess. Well, hopefully we'll see you later." Hanna shoots Spencer a meaningful look, and Emily is suddenly desperate to know what they'd just been talking about. "Do you two want a ride home?" The blonde asks as Spencer walks away, but Emily can tell she's mostly asking her, giving her an out.

"We're fine walking," Alison says smoothly, before Emily has a chance to answer, and Hanna shoots the other blonde a glare before looking pointedly at Emily. "Right, Em?"

"I-uh… right."

"Mm." Emily doesn't like the way Hanna looks at her – like she'd expected more, and suddenly she just really wants to get out of there, to get away from the blonde's judging stare, because she doesn't _understand _and who is she to lecture Emily about the way she's acting now that Alison's back? Hanna's the one having a crisis – Emily might be setting herself up for heartbreak, but at least she's not drinking herself into an early grave. "Well. See you later then."

Emily hears the 'maybe' that the blonde mutters as she turns away, but decides not to comment on it – she'll beg her to come, if she has to, because she _can't _be alone with Ali and her Mom for the night. She just can't.

It's a nice day out, the sun beaming down on them as Ali drags her away from Hanna's car and out through the front gates to start the walk home. It's not that far – about ten or fifteen minutes – but she likes to drive it anyway because any extra time she can have in bed is always an added bonus.

"So," Alison says in a slow drawl as they head towards the blonde's house, "why do you think your Mom suddenly wants this dinner tonight?"

"Honestly? I have no idea." She'd been surprised when the subject had been brought up that morning, and she didn't buy her Mom's excuse for a minute because she could talk to Alison any time – hell, the blonde was at their house more often than she was at her own, recently.

"Well, at least I'll have time to get my story straight beforehand." Emily just rolls her eyes, because she hates the fact that the first thing that Alison did when she got back into town was to lie again; it made it so easy to doubt that she really had changed.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Hey." Alison pulls on her arm, forces Emily to stop and look her in the eye. "We've talked about this."

"No, _you've _talked about this. _You _decided for all of us, dragged us into it with you because you couldn't find it in yourself to tell the truth for once in your life."

"I've told the truth plenty of times," the blonde replies, voice flat, eyes guarded. "Sometimes it doesn't work out so well."

"When you're talking to the _police _it does!" Alison's jaw sets, and she actually looks upset, for a brief second, that Emily's daring to challenge her, and then it's wiped away, her expression turning blank. "Look, Ali –"

"No, save it." She looks away for a brief moment, eyes focusing on something behind Emily's head, and when their eyes meet again there's a glint of anger hidden in deep blue. "You've made it perfectly clear what you think about me – I can walk myself home, seeing as it's so difficult for you to spend so much time around a pathological liar."

Alison wrenches her arm away from Emily's and stalks off down the street, leaving the brunette staring after her, stunned and lost, for several seconds before her brain catches up with what's happened and she runs after the blonde, falling into step beside her.

"Alison." When the blonde in question refuses to look at her or slow down she sighs, stepping in-front of her and putting her hands forward, palms-out, in a gesture of peace. "Look, I didn't mean… It's just hard, okay? To try and keep all the lies we've told straight. I think of them all, sometimes, and I wonder how much pain and trouble we could have saved by just telling the truth in the first place, because it usually always comes out in the end."

Alison's expression softens, and Emily hates the way her heart sort of stutters a little in her chest as a result of the tiny smile playing around the edges of the blonde's lips. "And I said I'd walk you home, so I am, whether you want me to or not."

"Of course I want you to," Alison says softly, winding their arms together once more and setting off down the street. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"You could've asked one of the others," Emily points out as they turn a corner, and she hears the soft sigh of exasperation that comes from the blonde at her side. "Why me?"

"I already told you – you were always my favorite." The words make her heart rate pick up, and she shoots a glance to the side to try and discern what expression's on the blonde's face. "You don't have to believe everything I say, but _please _believe that."

Emily doesn't answer, mainly because she doesn't know _how _to, can't dare to let herself truly believe the blonde's words because of what they might mean – and because of the utter devastation she'd feel if she ever found out that Alison was, yet again, lying to her.

"Come in for a second?" The blonde asks when they eventually reach her doorstep, having walked most of the journey in a not-so-comfortable silence. There's no car out front, and Emily guesses that her dad is working late (surprise, surprise – what kind of father finds out his daughter is alive after thinking she was dead for _two years _and doesn't want to spend every second of every day with her to make sure she never disappears again? _Especially _after she's just lost her mother?), and she thinks it's probably not a good idea to take Ali up on her offer.

"I should really be getting back to my Mom's, she'll need help setting things up for later seeing as it's so last-minute…" Then she thinks of Ali, alone and afraid in the house where she was attacked not all that long ago, and feels guilty, selfish, for wanting to turn tail and run in the opposite direction.

"Please? I need your help with what to wear later – it won't take long, I swear." She agrees, albeit a little reluctantly, but she knows she's made the right decision when she walks into the house just behind Alison, and sees the way her whole body tenses up as she steps through the front door – she only relaxes when she's craned her neck to check that there's no-one hidden somewhere in the foyer and living room.

"There's no-one here," Emily murmurs, brushing a gentle hand along the small of Alison's back without even thinking, and she winces when the blonde flinches away from the touch before remembering who's with her and leaning back into it. "You're safe."

"For now," Alison replies, voice somber, and Emily doesn't miss the way she casts one final look around the room before shuddering and heading straight up the stairs, leaving Emily to trail behind her.

She pauses at the doorway of the blonde's room, thinking of the last time she'd been in here – of kisses traded in the darkness, of the way Alison had clutched at her like her life depended on it, of the way the blonde's skin had felt, silken beneath her fingertips – and even though she hates the fact that they don't talk about it (just like they'd never talked about any of those kisses, back before Alison had disappeared, when Emily had been so ashamed but too desperate, too needy for Alison's mouth to be able to push her away whenever Alison's lips had sought hers), so can't bear to bring it up, can't bear to hear that it might not have meant anything at all to Alison, when it means the world to her.

Alison's rooting through her closet, her back to Emily, and the brunette remains by the door, not trusting herself to be alone in this bedroom with this woman who is still everything to her, even after all this time – because another kiss, without an explanation, might be too much for her to deal with.

"Em?" Alison asks, and when the brunette's eyes snap up from where they'd been lingering on the floor she sees the blonde stood a couple of meters away, looking at her in a way that makes Emily wonder if she's been trying to get her attention for a while.

"Sorry," she mumbles, running a nervous hand through her hair, because she can _deal _with Alison, usually, when they're in public, surrounded by other people where she knows she can't do anything stupid, but like this, alone, with no interruptions?

It's dizzyingly terrifying.

"It's okay." She's holding up two dresses, one in each hand, one a rich purple that falls to her knee, and the other half a floral print and half black, that falls to her mid-thigh and _god _the thought of Alison's legs in that is… so not helping her right now. "Which one?"

"Um," is all Emily's able to say because her mind's still kind of fixated on the way Alison would look in the black dress and it's…. very, very distracting. "The purple." Because she's not sure she'll be able speak, let alone eat dinner, if she wears the other.

"Really? Why?"

"Uhh, it's more… appropriate?" She cringes even as she speaks because _really_? She sounds like she's about forty years old. "For dinner. I guess."

"When have you ever known me to wear something _appropriate_?" There's a tiny smirk on Alison's face, and she's raising a suggestive eyebrow, and it makes Emily flush because _god _that dress and the thought of _Alison _in that dress or just the thought of Alison at _all_, really, is… hot as hell. "Or is there another reason?"

"It might be… distracting," she admits in a breathless rush, because Alison's moved closer to her now, and her eyes are dark and _fuck_, she really needs to get out of there before she does something really, really iditioc, like kiss that smirk right of Alison's stupid face.

"For who? You?" Alison's voice is husky, and she's dropped both dresses onto the bed, is only a couple of inches away from Emily, now, and she doesn't know how to _think _when Alison's _looking _at her like that.

"N-no." She can smell the scent of Alison's perfume, forever familiar, all around her, remembers what it feels like to kiss her lips and curls her hands into fists at her sides because _she's stronger than this, dammit_. "Just… in general."

Alison's practically on-top of her now, has Emily backed up against the wall and there's this look in her eye – almost _predatory – _that has a shiver running along Emily's spine because she's always _wanted _Alison to look at her like that, as though she wants her with every fiber of her being, but she can't – _they _can't –_do _this.

Not now, at least – they need to _talk _about it, before anything else happens between them, but it's hard to think about that, to _remember _that, when she can feel the heat from Alison's body pressed against her own.

It's the ringing of her phone that's her saving grace (or maybe her damnation, because Alison's lips are so, so close to her own and it would've been so, so easy to just give in, to lose herself in her again), because when the sound of it blares from her pocket Alison steps away, and Emily doesn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

"Hey, Mom," she answers when she sees the name flashing across the screen, turning to the side slightly, away from Alison, trying to not let how shaken she is by what almost happened show on her face. "What's up?"

_"I was wondering if you'd mind stopping by the store on your way home? If you're not already nearby. If you are then that's fine, I can head out later."_

"No, I'm just at Ali's so that's fine – what do you need?"


	5. Stay Forever

**Title: Stay Forever**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: Can you please write an alternate ending to the dinner party? Where Ali goes up to Emily's room afterwards and they're having a moment and then Pam interrupts?**

* * *

When she's got a tight hold of Hanna's keys and the blonde is (safely) on her way home, Emily turns with a heavy sigh and heads back towards the kitchen – tonight had _so _not gone as planned, and she really couldn't wait until she could curl up in bed and just… forget all about it.

"Where's Ali?" She asks her Mom when she rounds the corner and finds her alone, piling up the dishes from dinner on the counter, with Alison nowhere in sight – she wonders if she's left already, and hopes her face doesn't betray her disappointment; she'd been wanting to corner the blonde all night to talk to her alone, but hadn't been even remotely successful in her attempts.

"She had to use the bathroom – you girls are free to head upstairs if you want. I can clean up on my own."

"Okay…" Her Mom is looking at her a little weirdly, a little too… _knowingly_, and it freaks her out enough to have her leaving the room and heading up the stairs. The bathroom door's open, but Alison's not inside, and it's only when she hears the creak of the annoyingly squeaky floorboard in her bedroom that she finds the blonde, hand curled around the snow globe that she'd given to Emily on the day she'd disappeared.

"Reminiscing?" Emily asks, leaning one shoulder against the doorway, and Alison starts and spins around, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop, I just…" She trails off, setting the snow globe carefully back down on the table. "I was surprised you kept it."

"_You_ gave it to me – of _course _I kept it." She keeps waiting, for her words to send Alison running in the opposite direction, or to laugh off any mention Emily makes of her feelings, like she would have done in the past – but it never seems to come. "Isn't that why you gave it to me, anyway? Because you knew I'd keep it and eventually find what was in it?"

"I guess." One of Alison's shoulders lifts in a half-shrug as she turns back to face the brunette. "I thought you might have gotten rid of it then, though. Thinking that the only reason I gave it to you was because of that."

"It's not?"

"I could've given it to any of the others, but I didn't. I… I guess I just wanted to try and show you that I… I did care about you. Maybe not in the way you wanted, but I… I did."

"And how do you feel about me now?" The words fall from her lips without much conscious thought – because if she'd taken the time to _think _about it, there's no way she would've spoken, even though it had been on the tip of her tongue ever since they'd kissed the other night, desperate to know what it meant for them.

"I… I don't know." Emily forces her expression to remain neutral, to not betray the fact that a little part of her wants to crumble, because she'd been stupid, she'd allowed Alison back into her head and her heart (like she hadn't been there already), and now it's coming back to haunt her, because she _still _doesn't feel the same way.

"You know," Emily starts, and her voice is harsher than usual, bitter, tinged with some of the hurt she can feel within her chest. "It's usually not a good idea to kiss someone when you 'don't know' how you feel about them. Especially when you know how they feel about _you_."

"Em, I…" Alison looks so _remorseful_, and Emily hates that she feels guilt settling in her stomach because none of this is her _fault _(well, okay, it _had _been her that had initiated that kiss, but Alison had ample opportunity to push her away, Alison had kissed her _back_, for hours and hours and _hours_), and she wishes that she could hate Alison the same way that she loves her – all-consuming, white hot, so intense that it _burned_, sometimes, just to look at her – because surely that would be easier, less painful than this.

_Anything_ would be better than this.

"Maybe you should just leave," Emily says flatly, because she's so _tired_, tired of all the lies and all the secrets, tired of trying to figure out what the hell is on Alison's mind at any given moment, tired of _caring_.

"Emily…" Alison crosses the room in three easy strides, takes the brunette's hands in hers and looks up at her through her lashes, and Emily sees that she's blinking away tears, and hates the fact that she has to wonder if they're real or just for show –because Alison makes her doubt _everything_. "Please, I… I don't want to lie to you."

"Then don't!" The brunette hisses, and this is perhaps the first time she's ever let herself get truly angry at Alison while she's _there_, and she can see that the blonde is taken aback, that she, just like the other night when Emily had refused to look her in the eye, has absolutely no idea what to do to fix this.

"I'm trying not to!" She drops Emily's hands to start pacing, running her fingers through her hair, agitated. "Look, I… I'm not _good _at this, at knowing what I'm feeling – I try so hard to _not _feel anything that I… sometimes I forget how to."

"What does that even _mean_, Ali?" She asks, voice weary, and she's suddenly too exhausted to stand up anymore so she crosses over to her bed and sits down heavily on the edge of it.

"I don't… I don't _know_, okay? I told you. I'm not… You're my friend." The word feels like a knife through Emily's chest and her attempts to keep her expression neutral shatter as she winces. "But sometimes… sometimes I don't want you to be. Sometimes I want to kiss you, more than I can… more than I could ever put into words. But then I think about everything that I put you through, all the pain I've caused you and I remember that I… I don't deserve you."

"So, what, you just decide to ignore the way you feel about me? Pretend that it doesn't mean anything? Because you know, Ali, _that _hurts a hell of a lot more than anything else ever could."

"And if I broke your heart?"

"At least then I'd know what it's like to be with you." She feels like they're on the precipice of something, like maybe, _finally_, things are getting straightened out between the two of them, that maybe this is the start of something that Emily's wanted for as long as she can remember. "If you only focus on the negatives, then you'll never be happy."

"I don't even know what it's like to _be _happy," Alison says bitterly, and Emily knows that that's true – she can see it in the haunted look in Alison's eyes, the dark expression on her face, and she thinks of her life, of her family and the things that have happened to her, and wonders how Emily would feel, if their positions were reversed; she's really not sure that she'd have been able to deal with it, if she'd even be able to _survive _it. "I don't even know _how_ to be."

"Then let me show you." Her hand grabs Alison's wrist as she paces past her again, halting her just a few inches away, and maybe it's stupid, to trust Alison with her heart, but the blonde makes it hard for her to think clearly, and she just… she _wants _this, wants her, and she can't let the opportunity to actually _tell _her that slip through her fingers.

"Is that even what you want?" The blonde asks, voice breaking, and Emily can feel the rapid beating of Alison's pulse against the palm of her hand. "You avoided me when I first got back."

"Because I didn't know how to… to _be _around you. I didn't know how to come to terms with the fact that, as soon as I saw you, it was like the last two years never happened because I still… had feelings for you. And maybe that's really stupid, because you treated me like shit, Ali."

"I _know_," she says, and her voice is distraught as the hand that's not trapped in Emily's grasp moves to cradle the side of the brunette's face, her touch gentle. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of things that I've done in the past, but most of all the things I did to you. You didn't deserve it."

"Then why did you _do_ it?"

"Because I was scared," she admits, voice quiet as a whisper. "I was scared of the way I felt about you, which is so _stupid_, I know but I… I couldn't help it. I was fifteen and terrified and I didn't… I didn't know how to _deal _with it so I thought if I pushed you away then it'd be… okay. But it's not. Nothing's okay and I don't even know how you can look me in the eye with the way I treated you back then. I don't know how you can bring yourself to forgive me."

"Because I care about you."

"You shouldn't." She sees the bleak look on Alison's face, knows that she means it, that she thinks she's… _undeserving_ of love, and it breaks Emily's heart because sheshouldn't think that, regardless of the things that she's done. "I'm poison."

"You're _not_," Emily insists, as Alison's thumb brushes across her cheek and her eyes threaten to flutter shut. "Everyone deserves a second chance, and everyone deserves to be loved."

"And do you? Love me?" Alison asks, and the hope in her eyes is… god, it nearly breaks her, because she's said _too much_, she's said what she swore she'd never admit, not to Alison, definitely _not _face to face because that's why she'd written that stupid letter that summer before she'd disappeared and she's not… she's not _cut out _for this.

"I…" She trails off, suddenly terrified, because she doesn't know what Alison wants to hear, what Alison even wants at all and she barely even know what she wants _herself_. "I did. Before."

"And now?"

"I… I don't know." But she does, she can feel it, in the ache in her chest as Alison expression falls, just the tiniest amount in response to her words, in the way her skin is on fire beneath the lightest touch of Alison's hand, in the way that the desire to just lean up and kiss her is the only thought in her head, but she can't… she can't _say _any of that, not until she knows how Alison feels, because Emily's already so transparent, and she can't bring herself to put her everything down on the line, not when it has the potential to go so tragically wrong.

"I don't know either," Ali murmurs quietly, "but I do know that I…" She trails off, and Emily's mouth opens to prompt Alison, find out what it is that she knows, but she's cut off by the press of lips against her own and the words die in her throat.

It's probably the first time that Alison has fully initiated a kiss – all the others before it have always started with Emily, even the other night, though there had been a difference in the way that Alison had kissed her back, then, that's reflected in this kiss; it's tinged with an edge of desperation, as both the blonde's hands cup the sides of the brunette's face, tangling in dark hair as her tongue slides possessively into Emily's mouth.

Emily is powerless to do anything other than reach for Alison and drag her closer, one of her hands wrapping around the blonde's waist, the other curling around her upper thigh, like she'd been wanting to do all night, ever since Alison had walked through her front door in that damn dress.

She knows she should pull away, that this is probably Alison's way of avoiding any further conversation but she can't _help _but cling to her desperately, because how many more chances at this is she going to get? How long will it be before Alison decides that she can't do this anymore, and leaves her behind again?

So she'll snatch at this, and any other opportunities she can get, because she feels like she's on thin ice, ready to break beneath her feet at any moment and plunge her into the abyss below, and maybe the memory of the way Alison feels, pressed tightly against her, kissing her hard, will be enough to keep her sane when she falls.

"Girls, do you want any - " Emily's Mom comes into the room without knocking, probably thinking she had no _need _to, and at the sound of her voice Alison wrenches herself away from Emily as though she's been burned, and Emily can only look on in horror as the blonde forces a smile onto her face as so turns to face the intruder.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs Fields," the blonde says in a voice that sounds fake, to Emily's ears, her hands smoothing down the skirt of her dress nervously. "It was lovely. I was actually just on my way out – thank you again."

"Ali - " Emily starts, but the she's already gone, slipping past her mother and out of her bedroom door, and Emily wonders, as she hears the front door slam shut behind the blonde, leaving her to face her mother alone, how much of a setback this is going to be.

She's guessing a big one.


	6. Girlfriend

**Title: Girlfriend**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: **Jealous Alison regarding Emily's phonecall to Paige in 5x07.

* * *

"I nearly told her I loved her." Alison pauses when she hears Emily's voice – she'd just been about to round the corner into the courtyard to head to her first class of the day, but the brunette's voice has her stopping in her tracks. "How messed up is that?"

"It's not messed up." It's Spencer who replies, and Alison deduces that they must be stood just a few steps away, just around the corner. "It's normal."

"It can be normal and still messed up. God, I'm so screwed." Alison knows she shouldn't be eavesdropping like this – it's not right to infringe on Emily's privacy like this; if she wanted Alison to know what she was talking about then she'd _tell _her.

But she can't quite force herself to walk into view, where she has no doubt that Spencer and Emily will drop their conversation and switch topics, and she's… curious. Wonders if they're talking about her.

Which is stupid and self-centred, but… they _had _kissed the other day, long into the night until their lips were swollen and bruised, until all Alison was aware of was Emily, pressed so intimately against her.

And it had been… amazing. But also scary. Because she didn't know how to… to tell Emily that she wanted to be with her. And she'd tried, in a half-assed way that was saying it without really saying it, that night, before they'd kissed, but then afterwards she'd fucked it all up.

She had a habit of doing that, though – she should really be used to it by now.

"You're not screwed," Spencer says, and from the tone of her voice Alison can tell that she's fighting not to smile, amused by whatever expression is on Emily's face. "Well, not unless you _want _to be, if you know what I mean."

"Gross, Spence."

"Just a suggestion! Maybe it'd help you, y'know, get rid of some tension. You've been pretty stressed lately."

"Having sex with Paige isn't going to help that," Emily sighs, and Alison feels like her blood's turned to ice in her veins, because they're not talking about her, they're talking about _Paige_, it's _Paige _who Emily almost said those three little words to.

Not her.

"You never know…"

"It won't, trust me. It'll probably just make things worse."

"Well, do you want to get back together with her?" Alison wishes she could see Emily's face, be able to read what she's truly thinking, because she can't tell _anything _from just the tone of her voice, and she's practically pressed flat against the wall that's shielding her from view, determined to hear every bit of this conversation now that she's started listening.

"I… I don't know what I want Spence, honestly. It's just… it's hard, having Alison back around."

"I know," Spencer's voice is sympathetic, and Alison imagines the brunette putting a comforting hand on the small of the brunette's back, and despises the fact that it can't be her who's comforting Emily – that it's her who's helped put Emily in this state in the first place. "Do you… do you still have feelings for her?"

Alison's barely breathing; she's so terrified of missing Emily's reply – but all she hears is silence, and dammit, why can't she _see _them?

"Is that why you don't want to get back together with Paige?" Spencer prompts, when it becomes clear that Emily's not up to answering the question. "Because of Ali?"

"That's not… the _only _reason." Emily sighs again, heavier this time, and Alison wonders how much she's told them – she wonders if they know about the kiss, if they think that all she's doing is using Emily.

And even _she _doesn't really have any idea what she's doing, if she's completely honest with herself, but when Emily had kissed her everything had felt… _right_ with the world, for the first time in a long, long while.

"Emily…" Spencer starts slowly, and her tone is careful and Alison knows that she's not going to like whatever words come out of the brunette's mouth next. "I know that it's confusing, with her being back, but… I don't think you should give up on someone who actually loves and cares about you for someone who… doesn't."

"I'm not _giving up _on Paige, especially not for Alison. We broke up before she came back, remember?"

"Uh, yeah, but wasn't that because of something to _do _with Ali?"

"You're supposed to be helping me," Emily says, then, with exasperation. "Not pushing me towards Paige!"

"I'm not!" Spencer defends. "I just… I don't want you to get hurt, is all."

"And you think Ali will hurt me." It's a statement, not a question, and Alison's heart aches because she wishes that they didn't think that, even though she knows _why_, because she's hurt Emily, she's hurt all of them, in the past, but two years of solitude with nothing other to do other than wallow in regret and look back at her past actions and hate herself has taught her to be a better person.

So she hopes, anyway.

"Well yeah, Em. I mean, she's definitely not the same girl as she was before, but… how much has she really changed?"

She can't listen to any more, suddenly doesn't want to know what they're going to say next – dreads to know what they really think about her. So she pushes her bag further up her shoulder and puts her head down, striding past her two friends and towards her first class of the day, and ignores the sound of their voices as they call her name.

x-x-x

She thinks about Spencer and Emily's conversation all day, completely unable to focus on anything at all – she avoids her friends at lunch, instead hiding in the library because she just… needs some space.

Which is ironic, really, because before she'd thrived on attention, lived and breathed in the spotlight, wasn't satisfied unless everyone's eyes on her.

And she has that, now, because people's eyes follow her wherever she goes. But now she _hates_ it, because she knows that half of them are wishing that she really were dead, that she'd never come back at all, because she'd treated everyone in this damn school like shit and she was paying for it now.

Karma really _is _a bitch.

The thought of walking home alone and returning to an empty house (her dad works late practically every night, doesn't seem to know how to live in the same house as her, in the same house that his ex-wife could have died in), fills her with a cold dread, so she lingers in the middle of town, deciding that getting a coffee in the Brew won't do her any harm – it's light out, and there are dozens are people milling around, so she should be safe.

Hopefully.

She sits on one of the tables outside and drags some of her homework out of her bag – boring, sure, but she has zero interest in being held behind a year, or _more_, and she's serious about catching up – doodling absently in the margin of her notebook while she reads over the questions.

It's then that she hears the sound of Emily's voice, and her head snaps up to see the brunette just a few metres away, her back turned to Alison, talking animatedly to someone that the blonde can't quite see.

And then Emily shifts, just a little, to reveal the person in-front of her, and it's only then that she's able to put a name to the uncomfortable churning feeling that she's had in her stomach since that morning.

Jealousy.

It seethes and it rages, running through her veins and making her vision hazy, and all she can focus on is how closely they're standing together, the easy familiarity with which they're speaking, and the way that Paige's hand comes to rest on Emily's elbow, and the fact that Emily doesn't move away.

She wishes she could hear what they're talking about, but maybe it's better that she doesn't know. If they're getting back together… _god_, they _couldn't_. She doesn't know if she could stand it, and she _knows _that's petty and stupid and _jealous_, because Emily deserves the world, she deserves to be happy, and that's something that Alison isn't sure that she'll ever be able to give her.

But it hurts all the same, to see her with someone else. To see her laughing and joking with someone else, the way she'd used to only do with Alison, and she'd never… _expected _this, stupidly, the fact that Emily had moved on – they'd _all _moved on, all four of them, slid out from underneath Alison's thumb and come into their own, and she's _proud_ of that, of all of them, because she was a bully, through and through.

Paige notices Alison watching them, then, and her eyebrows crease into a frown – when Emily turns to see what Paige is looking at, she grabs Emily's arm, stopping her, expression smoothing into an easy smile – and there's a look in her eye, like she's _celebrating _the fact that Emily's there with her and not Alison, that makes the blonde's blood _boil_.

And it wasn't like she had anything _against _Paige, not _really. _She'd treated her like shit, but that wasn't really much different to the way she'd treated the rest of the school – and she'd been jealous then, too. That she would tell Emily how she felt, that Emily would forget all about Alison and move on to be with someone that actually wanted her back, and she didn't _want_ that, couldn't _stand _to see that, so she'd done all she could to stop it from happening.

It's all backfired on her now, though. She'd left town and Emily had found love with Maya and then Paige; she'd moved on, just like Alison feared. And the irony's not lost on her, that out of everyone in Rosewood, Paige was the one Emily had chosen, in the end.

Paige who didn't deserve the way Alison treated her, Paige who could probably give Emily everything that shedeserved, everything that Alison had been unable to give her. But still, selfishly – so, _so _selfishly, but isn't that what she's always been? What she always will be? – she wants Emily all to herself, wants Emily to look at her the way she imagines she's looking at Paige right now.

Because Alison's _always _loved Emily, in as much as she felt she could. Because Alison doesn't believe in fate and true love and happy endings – life's taught her that that doesn't exist, had taught her that at the tender age of fifteen when she'd been buried alive in that grave – and she's not sure she believes all that much in love itself, either.

But Emily makes her think that it just might exist, because she's pure and light and _good_, so inherently, selflessly good, and she's everything that Alison's not, everything that she doesn't know _how to be_, and Emily makes her _better_ (does that mean she makes Emily _worse_?).

Only she was too scared to _do _anything about it, back then. Too scared and ashamed and buried in self-hatred, too worried about what other people would think about her if they found out. So she'd settled for stolen moments with Emily behind closed doors, and they'd been the only bright spots in the life that she'd pretended to love but had secretly despised.

It's ironic, too, that now that she can admit this, admit that she wants Emily in the way that she knows the brunette's always wanted her, that she wouldn't believe Alison if she told her. Because she doesn't trust her, now – Alison can see that, the doubt that flickers across her face pretty much every time the blonde opens her mouth, and it hurts, even though she knows she deserves it (deserves that and a hell of a lot more).

She sits and she watches Emily and Paige and she thinks all of this, thinks of all of her mistakes, laid out neatly in-front of her for her to examine, to lament about what she could have done better (everything – she could have done _everything _better, if only she hadn't been so _dense_), while still she feels jealousy clawing its way up her throat, begging to rear its ugly head, to go over there and drag Emily away from Paige, to spit insults at Paige like she used to, to tell her to back the _fuck _off… but she doesn't.

Because she knows that if she ever wants to have a chance with Emily then she needs to show that she's changed.

x-x-x

At the weekend she stays home.

She texts the girls and tells them that her dad has taken the weekend off work and wants to spend some time together, and uses that as her excuse for not answering any of the calls or texts that come her way (mostly from Emily, but she doesn't want to talk to her, not until she can stop herself feeling sick over the thought of her and Paige, wondering if she's with Paige when she's texting Alison, asking her if she's okay, and she can't _stand _it, doesn't want these feelings, _any _of them).

In actuality her dad spends pretty much the entire weekend at work. He's not there when she gets home on Friday, after the fiasco at the Brew, doesn't come home until she's already in bed, and is gone by the time she wakes up on Saturday morning, leaves her alone all day and when he comes back at nine he immediately goes upstairs and it's _hard_, to feel… _unwanted _by her own father, and she knows she should be used to it, because he hadn't been present much before, but she'd thought things might be _different_, now.

Clearly she'd been wrong about that, along with pretty much everything else.

So she spends a lot of time with Pepe the dog, who curls up on her bed and puts his head in her lap and lets her cry into his shaggy fur. She used to hate crying, thought that it made her seem weak, but she does a lot of it that weekend, as though somehow she can rid herself of her frustration and her anger and her regret in the form of tears falling from her eyes, but afterwards she just feels… empty.

A leaves her alone, no doubt enjoying watching her be miserable, and she's grateful for that, if nothing else. She can almost pretend that she's a normal teenage girl, heartbroken after watching her first love slip through her fingers and fall into someone else's arms, as she watches cheesy movies and drowns herself in ice-cream, and she tells herself that she'll have this weekend, just these three days, to feel miserable, and then on Monday she'll bounce back and brush it off as if it's nothing (except it's _not _nothing).

She's dozing off on Sunday afternoon when she hears the front door downstairs creak open, and she's alert in a heartbeat, scrambling into a sitting position and muting the TV so that she can hear what's going on, and beside her Pepe's listening intently too, his head cocked to one side, staring at her shut bedroom door.

She's alone in the house, has no idea where her dad is – he'd mumbled something about needing to go somewhere when she'd seen him for a brief five seconds that morning, and Jason is… who _knows _where – and when she hears the sound of light footsteps on the stairs she moves quickly and quietly to her bedside table, grabs the heaviest thing she can find (an ornate lamp that, if she were still around, her Mom would've killed her for using it as a weapon), and stands with her back against the wall beside her bedroom door, because A has caught her off-guard once and she's not about to let it happen again.

Pepe stays sat on the bed as the footsteps grow closer, but he sits up and looks ready to launch himself at the intruder if he needs to – Alison is tense, every muscle in her body locked, and in her hand the lamp shakes so hard that she nearly drops it – and when there's a tentative knock on her door she nearly sags with relief because she's pretty sure A would just barge right through.

"Who is it?" She calls, still unmoving, because you can never be too careful, after all.

"It's Emily," the brunette says softly. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she breathes in a quiet sigh of relief, and she's not quite quick enough to move across the room to put the lamp back before Emily's through the door.

"Um, what are you doing?" The brunette asks, leaning down to pet Pepe when he bounds over to her as Alison careful sets the lamp down.

"I didn't know who it was," she brushes it off with a shrug, even though she jumps every time she hears a noise in the house late at night, every time a door opens, and she can only just bear to sleep with the lights off.

"I did text you," Emily says, glancing up towards her from where she's crouched on the floor, Pepe's head in her lap, and Alison reaches for her phone, feels a pang of guilt when she sees the string of worried texts from the brunette over the last few hours.

_I'm coming over there if you don't reply in the next five minutes – I'm worried about you, Ali_. That's what the last one says, and it brings a warmth to her chest, even though she knows it shouldn't, because she'd scared her, and that's messed up, but… she can't _help _it.

"Sorry."

"Sorry? You've been ignoring me all weekend, to the point where I literally had to come over here to make sure you weren't _dead_, and all you have to say for yourself is _sorry_?" The brunette straightens up and Pepe flees through the open bedroom door, clearly sensing an argument coming on, and there's an angry glint in Emily's eye, one that's never been directed at Alison.

"I told you, my dad wanted to –"

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Alison – your dad's car has been gone pretty much all day, every day, so save your lies for someone who will believe them."

"So, what? You're stalking me, now?" Offense has always been her best defense, and she can't help slipping back into that habit now, despite the fact that the _last _thing she wants to do with Emily is fight.

Throw her up against the wall and kiss her until she forgets how to breathe? Sure. But end up in a screaming match because she's too proud to admit that she's a coward when it comes to her feelings? Not so attractive, but she knows that's probably what's about to happen, all the same.

"_No_," Emily says, through gritted teeth, and Alison watches the way her hands curl into fists at her sides, and thinks that she's never seen Emily so furious. "I was _worried _about you."

"I don't _need _you to worry about me."

"Right, I forgot, because you don't need anyone, do you? Or at least, you can't _admit _that you do. But newsflash, Alison, you needed me the other night otherwise you'd be _dead_." She sees the flash of pain in Emily's eyes, can't imagine what she would have felt, if their positions had been reversed, if it had been Emily being strangled and not her – she doesn't think that she'd ever be able to let the brunette out of her sight ever again. "Would it really have killed you to pick up the phone and just tell me that you were okay?"

"I… No. I'm sorry. I was… I needed some space." All of the fight goes out of her, because she doesn't _want _this, doesn't want to argue and push Emily away – she wants to drag her closer, wants to tell her how much she means to her, wants to never have to watch her walk away from her every again.

"From me?" She sounds so wounded, and she's looking at Alison with a frown on her face, hurt in her brown eyes, and her heart aches because how many more times is she going to cause Emily pain?

"From everyone," she answers, honestly, because she _did_. She's exhausted, trying to put on the façade that she's absolutely fine, that it's been easy, for her to come back and adapt to a world that was completely different, pretend that she doesn't want to curl up on the floor and just weep because she doesn't know how to be _okay_ anymore. "And I thought… I thought you'd be too busy with Paige to bother with me."

She hadn't really _meant _to say that, but once the words are out she can't really take them back, and she worries at her bottom lip because she's said _too much_, and Emily's just looking at her blankly, confused.

"Paige?" She repeats, frowning, now, and Alison just curses herself because _why _did she have to _say _that? "What does she have to do with anything?"

"Nothing."

"There you go again with the lying." The blonde's gaze had been fixed resolutely on the floor but at Emily's words her head snaps up, and she glares at the brunette, but Emily just stares right back, whereas once she would have cowered, said whatever she needed to say to calm Alison down, and it's just yet another reminder of how much everything has changed. "You're not… are you _jealous_?"

"No!" She snaps, angrily, but there's a smirk playing on the edges of Emily's lips, a knowing little smirk that Alison just wants to wipe off her stupid face. "Why on _earth _would I be jealous of _her_?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Alison doesn't answer, can't answer, doesn't trust herself to open her mouth because she's afraid of what might come spilling out, and she'd been telling herself, over this weekend, that if Emily wanted to be with Paige then she wouldn't interfere, because Paige could make her _happy_, and that's all that Alison wanted. Emily's happiness.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Stop _lying _to me," Emily hisses, and Alison snaps, because she's never really had a good hold on her emotions and they've been all over the place over the last few days – she strides forward, her hands landing squarely on Emily's shoulders and she pushes her backwards until she's pressed against the wall and Alison's pressed against her, eyes dark and dangerous whereas Emily's are wide with surprise.

"I'm _not_ jealous of Paige," she insists, voice low and hard, and she tries to ignore the heat from Emily's body and the way her heart's pounding in her chest.

"Really?" Emily breathes, and she looks down at Alison with a challenge in her eyes, and god, all Alison wants to do is kiss her. "So you wouldn't care if I kissed her like I kissed you the other night? If we got back together?"

The thought makes her sick, and she has to fight to keep her face from betraying her true emotions, and she can't _speak_ so she just shakes her head, instead.

"Tell me," Emily demands, and it strikes Alison, then, how the brunette has all the power, even as she's being pinned against the wall, Alison's hands still lingering on her skin. "Tell me that you want me to be with her, and not you. Tell me that… that you don't want me."

"I'm all wrong for you," she breathes, and she shifts her weight and her leg falls in-between Emily's, her thigh accidentally pressing against the brunette's centre and she watches Emily's eyes flutter shut, hears the slightly strangled noise that escapes her lips and _fuck_, she's screwed, should move away before she does something stupid, but she's transfixed by the way Emily bites down on her bottom lip softly, her head thudding back against the wall behind her.

"That's not what I asked you."

"I know, but it's true."

"Maybe I don't want someone who's good for me." Emily's eyes snap open, lock with hers, and they're darker, now, and her hands, previously by her sides, come to rest on Alison's hips, thumb smoothing across the strip of bare skin that's been exposed where her shirt has risen up. "Maybe I just want you. I've always wanted you. Even when you weren't here, even when I thought you were dead, that I was never going to see you again… I still wanted you."

"I thought about you every day I was gone," she admits, and her voice is quiet and Emily hangs on to her every word. "Maybe I've always wanted you, too."

They hadn't slept together, the other night, in this room, but Alison had wanted to.

Emily hadn't, though, had stopped Alison's hands from wandering too far south, resolutely, and Alison could guess why.

She thought it was too fast, that Alison was using her, that she didn't really meant it, that she _herself _would regret it… there were a dozen reasons that she could think of. But then there was also the fact that Alison hadn't really said how she felt, aside from a half-assed admittance that those kisses from before hadn't been meaningless to her.

So when she leans further into Emily and kisses her, unable to fight the urge _not _to anymore, she half-expects to be pushed away, for the brunette to insist that they need to _talk _more before they do anything else.

And Alison _does _want to talk, she _does_, she wants to make sure they're both on the same page about what this means – hell, she wants to try and see whether she's cut out for a relationship, for _love_, with the one woman that she knows she can always count on, that's always seen the best in her.

But talking comes in second to the way that Emily's hands grasp at her waist to drag her impossibly closer, lips parting as she kisses Alison back, and somewhere, in the back of her mind, as Emily pushes herself back off the wall in order to walk Alison over to the bed, she thinks that she might just have to send Paige a thank-you note, because without her, this would most decidedly not be happening.

She thinks that the look on her face would be priceless.


	7. I Surrender

**Title: I Surrender**

**Rating: K+**

**Prompt: Can you write about what you think happened at the kissing rock?**

* * *

"Where are we _going_?" It's the first time she's asked, though they've been walking for several minutes, now, Alison keeping a couple of steps ahead of Emily, leading the way.

"If I told you then that would ruin the surprise." The smile that Alison throws Emily over her shoulder is one of mystery, and the brunette is powerless to resist Alison DiLaurentis when she smiles – so she follows her eagerly along the Rosewood streets on that Saturday afternoon, and it's only when she realizes that they're heading towards the woods that she comes to a stop.

"Alison…" She says, warningly, because she hates the woods; the trees press so closely together that it almost feels like you're drowning, and they block out the sunlight so that it's _dark_ and it's just _creepy _and she doesn't understand why so many people like spending time in them.

"Oh, come on, Em. It'll be fun." After a quick glance around them she takes the brunette's hand in her own, winding their fingers together before pulling her forward, and Emily just lets herself be dragged along because Alison is holding her hand, _holding her hand_, and it's the first time that's ever really happened and her mind is just sort of wonderfully _blank_.

The woods don't even seem all that scary, when Alison's got ahold of her, and every so often her thumb brushes across the back of Emily's knuckles and whenever it happens she sort of just _forgets _all of a sudden how to breathe.

She can't help wonder, though, as Alison walks them deeper and deeper into the trees, just where, exactly, they're going. And it's not until they're on the edge of the clearing that she realizes, and then her breath sort of catches in her throat and she grinds to a halt.

She's never been here herself, never had anyone _to _go with (but she'd wanted to, with Alison, always with Alison), but she knows where they are. She's heard the stories (hell, Alison was the one that had first told them to her, with a glint in her eye that threatened that she knew more than she was letting on), and the legends, knows that the rock sitting in the centre of this little copse of trees is the famous kissing rock, and the realization has her stomach in knots.

Because Alison had brought her here.

But _why_?

"Come _on_." Alison tugs on Emily's arm, forces her forward, and doesn't stop until she's perched on the edge of the rock, still holding Emily's hand, looking up at her through her lashes, and Emily wishes now more than ever that she knew what the blonde was thinking.

"What are we doing here?" She's prepared for a joke, prepared for her heart, beating frantically quickly in her chest, to crumble beneath the weight of the words that are no doubt about to spill from Alison's lips, talking about practice and how it's not _real_ and everything else that Emily tries to tell herself, late at night, in an effort to try and bring herself out of Alison's clutches.

It hasn't worked so far.

She still always comes running back, still lets Alison walk all over her, is still powerless to resist the urge to kiss her, when Alison allows it (and she's so out of control – spinning and twisting and turning – when it comes to Alison DiLaurentis that it would be _comical_, if it weren't so tragic, and Alison has all the power, all the control, and she _knows _it, she uses it, and Emily _knows _that she does but she can't _do _anything about it because she loves her, she loves her like she wishes she could hate her, and it's tearing her apart but Alison's like a drug, _her _drug, one that she's powerless to resist, forever and always).

"Oh, like you haven't always wanted to bring someone here?" There's a smirk tugging at the edges of Alison's lips, and Emily _hates _it, hates how sometimes she can be so genuine and vulnerable and _loving _and then the next minute she's manipulative and vicious and _hurtful _and she never knows which version of Alison she's going to get. "Bring _me _here?"

A muscle twitches in Emily's jaw, and she's so tired, she's _exhausted_, of all these games, of never knowing what's on Ali's mind, and she just wants to tell her to _go away_, that if this, all of this, means nothing to her, to just let Emily go.

But a part of her is too scared, that if she says those words, Alison will laugh and turn her away as though she's meaningless, and Emily's not sure she'd be able to survive the heartbreak that would cause, because she's barely hanging on as it is. And at least like this, then there are times (rare times, but there all the same), where Alison acts like she cares, and Emily can almost pretend, that this is normal, that _they're _normal, the two of them, together, and it's fucked up, to cling to glimpses, moments, of a girl that she loves but feels like she barely knows, but she does, because she doesn't know how to have anything else.

So she forces herself to hold her tongue, because she's so scared of sending Alison skittering away from her for good.

"I was just wondering," she mumbles, letting her gaze fall to the floor, and she wants to rip her hand from Alison's grip, to turn and walk away and never look back, but she's weak, so, so weak, when it comes to Alison, who is always so, so strong.

"You know it's called the kissing rock for a reason…" Alison trails off, and when Emily chances a glance at the blonde's face there's a challenge in her eyes, but her smirk is gone, a pout taking its place when Emily doesn't make a move. "Aren't you gonna kiss me?"

"Do you want me to?" She fires back, feeling unusually brave underneath the heavy weight of the blonde's blue eyes.

"Silly, silly, Emily." The brunette prepares herself for what she knows will come next, prepares for her feelings to be disregarded, tossed aside, yet again – but what she's not prepared for is the hard yank that Alison gives her left arm, her hand still clasped in the blonde's, and it sends her pitching forward, her right hand scrambling for purchase on the rock that Alison's sitting on.

It means that she ends up bent over Alison, her hand resting by the blonde's hip, and she's surrounded by the scent of her perfume, is so close to her face that she can see the different swirls of blue in her dark, dark, eyes, and she can feel the heat of Alison's body, so tantalisingly close to her own.

"I always want you to," the blonde breathes, and it's the tone of her voice, coupled with the _look _in her eye and her closeness that undoes Emily, and she kisses her. She's always been timid, scared of moving too quickly, too fast, before, but there's something different, this time – maybe it's the fact that Alison brought _her_ here, the fact that she'd finally admitted that, even if this _didn't _mean anything, at least she _wanted _it, or maybe it's just the way that Alison reaches for her and pulls her closer – and it makes her braver.

She drops Alison's hand and instead rests it on the blonde's hip, fingers splaying across bare skin as she kisses the blonde harder than she's ever dared to before, tongue brushing the seam of Alison's lips – when the blonde's lips part and there's the first brief touch of her tongue against Emily's the brunette swears that her heart is going to beat its way out of her chest.

It's messy and clumsy because she has no idea what she's _doing _because they've never done this before – _she's_ never done this before – but she's spurred on by the tiny whimper that comes from the back of Alison's throat, the way her hands tangle in Emily's hair, keeping her close, and the way Alison's legs slide apart so that Emily can step between them, so that they end up pressed flush together.

Emily doesn't know how long they stand there for, but it feels like hours, and all she's aware of is Alison – she's surrounded by her, completely, drowning in her, and she feels like she's just waiting to be pushed away but the moment never comes. If anything it feels like Alison's clinging to her, one hand slipping down to the small of Emily's back to push her ever closer, and it's… all kinds of exhilarating and Emily never wants it to end.

Inevitably, though, it does. There's a shout from somewhere distantly behind them that has them parting, suddenly remembering where they are (very much in _public_), and they're both breathless, Emily's chest heaving in time with her pounding heart as she tries to catch her breath, and she can't help but look at Alison as though she's never seen her before.

"We should go," she says, quietly, and she doesn't _want _to say that, but she knows that Alison won't want them found her, intertwined like this, and maybe it's for the best, anyway – she already feels like she's running on borrowed time, stolen moments, and she doesn't want to push too far, because she really _really _wouldn't mind a repeat of this.

"You're right." Alison's face is carefully blank, and Emily would give anything to know what she's thinking as they disentangle themselves – they're nearly at the edge of the clearing when Alison suddenly stops. "Wait, I forgot something."

The blonde runs back to the rock, rooting around in the bag slung over her shoulder, as Emily trails behind her. "What are you doing?" Emily calls when the blonde pulls out what looks like a can of spray-paint, holding it tightly in her right hand.

"It's tradition," is all Alison replies with, sinking to her knees and shaking the can as Emily moves to stand behind her. "To write your initials if you come here."

Emily tries to ignore the fluttering of her heart in her chest brought on by Alison's words, as the blonde's face scrunches in concentration, pressing down on the nozzle of the spray-paint and carefully drawing their initials on the side of the rock, finishing it off by drawing a heart around it.

"There," Alison says softly when she's done, glancing up at the brunette almost shyly, and the look tears Emily in two because she looks so _genuine_… but she has no idea if any of it's _real_ and why does Alison have to make her so crazy? "That's better."

The sound of voices grow closer, until whoever it is are practically in the clearing with them, and Alison rises to her feet quickly, shoving the can back in her bag before taking Emily's hand once more in her own and dragging the brunette back into the safety of the trees, and they practically run, together, through the woods until they reach the street again, and all the while, the sound of Alison's musical laughter echoes in Emily's ears.


	8. All I Need

**Title: All I Need**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: ****The girls giving alison a speech about emily to not hurt her and to stay away from her but alison confessing her feelings since the beginning and the girls believing her and emily had listened to the convo.**

* * *

Spencer corners her just before lunch, sliding one arm across the door of Alison's classroom as she tries to leave and stopping her in her tracks. "I want to talk to you," is all she says by way of explanation, and Alison sighs and wonders what the chances of her getting out of this are (she's guessing zero), so just shrugs and turns around and leans back against one of the desks with her arms folded across her chest.

"I don't have all day, you know," she says when Spencer doesn't look like she's going to move, but the brunette just ignores her and keeps throwing furtive glances over her shoulder, and Alison sighs heavily before pulling out her phone because apparently she's not leaving this room anytime soon.

_I'll save you a seat at lunch xx _

She smiles when she sees the text from Emily (she smiles a lot, nowadays, when she thinks of Emily), but it slides off her face when she realizes that by trapping her in here Spencer is eating into the precious time that she gets to see the brunette at school.

_I might be a while, Spencer's apparently planning some sort of intervention and I can't leave until she's 'talked to me' – do you know what this is about? _

_No, she hasn't mentioned anything to me. Do you want me to come find you? _

"Finally." At the sound of Spencer's voice Alison glances up from the screen, sliding it back into her bag when she sees Hanna slipping into the room behind Spencer. "Where's Aria?"

"I dunno, she probably still can't bear to be in the same room as me still because apparently I'm a homewrecker." Hanna rolls her eyes as Spencer shuts the door of the classroom, looking very much like she doesn't want to be there as she stands as far away from Alison as she possibly can.

"I thought we agreed to put that aside to do this?"

"Maybe she changed her mind, I don't know."

"Are you two going to tell me what's going on here?" Alison finally snaps, growing tired of waiting, and both of them turn to look at her, then, as though they'd forgotten that she was even there in the first place.

"Right, okay, well, Alison we want - "

"We want you to stay the fuck away from Emily," Hanna interrupts Spencer coolly, cutting right to it (which apparently wasn't the plan, judging from the disbelieving look that Spencer throws the blonde).

"And why's that?" Hanna's glaring at her, and Alison glares right back because she doesn't _like _being cornered, not by _anyone_, and what _right _do they have to tell her what she can and can't do?

"Because you're gonna use her and break her heart and we'll be the ones who have to pick up the pieces." Alison wonders how they knew anything's going on at all (because it's not, not really – they kissed that night but that's been it, and Emily doesn't seem to want to talk about it and Alison can't bear to bring it up because what if Emily thought it was a _mistake?)_

"We just don't want her to get hurt," Spencer chips in, and Alison can tell that she's trying to be a little more gentle than Hanna but there's still a hard edge to her words, a look in her eye that screams 'and if you do hurt her anyway you'll regret it', and she loves that Emily has them, all of them, is glad that they haven't crumbled after everything that they've been through, that they're stronger now than ever before.

She's glad that they were there to look after Emily when she couldn't be.

"And I have no _intention _of hurting her."

"Bullshit," Hanna scoffs, and a muscle in Alison's cheek twitches in irritation, her teeth grinding together. "Just stay away from her. She deserves so much better than you."

"But I love her." Hanna had turned ready to storm out of the room but Alison's words stop her in her tracks and she turns slowly back around to face Alison, and she curses herself because oh, god, why had she _said _that? She'd barely even been able to admit that to _herself _and now she's just blurted it out to Spencer and Hanna?

God, _Emily_ doesn't even know.

"What?" Spencer asks, and her eyes are wide and Alison can tell that she's surprised (and Hanna is, too, or so she guesses from the way the blonde is gaping at her), and well, she can't really blame them. They all thought that she'd just been playing with Emily's feelings before she'd disappeared (and she supposes she was, in a way, too terrified to be able to admit that she felt the same way until it was too late), and she'd never given them any reason to think otherwise.

"I love her. I always did but I… I was scared. And I know that doesn't excuse the things that I did, I _know _that, believe me, I had two years to think about the awful things that I did to her and I… I hated myself for it, and I swore I'd never hurt her again but I… I can't stay away from her. I never could, and it's because I love her."

"But that's not…" Hanna trails off, shaking her head. "You can't be."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll just switch off my feelings then, would that work better for you?" She snaps at the other blonde because she doesn't _do _this, she doesn't spill her guts to other people, doesn't give them that kind of power over her and _god _what had she been _thinking_?

"You can't blame me for not being ready to give you my blessing, Alison." Hanna's eyes are a steely blue, and she's so fiercely protective of Emily and she's _glad _even if she wishes that it didn't mean that she was in the firing line.

"And I'm _not_, I just… I don't know what you _want _from me. It's not like I can _prove _to you that I'm being honest. I can't prove to you how much I care about her." Hanna opens her mouth to say something and then promptly shuts it again when there's a crash from outside the door, and Alison's head whips around because what if there was someone outside there listening? What if A is there, had heard her every word – what if they went after Emily to try and get to her?

Spencer must be thinking along the same lines because she darts over to the door and wrenches it open – when she does it's to find Emily kneeling on the floor outside, desperately trying to gather up the books that have spilled from her arms, and there's a sheepish look on her face as she glances up at Spencer, framed in the doorway.

"Em?"

"I… Alison told me you were interrogating her and I came to see why," the brunette explains, chewing on her bottom lip as she rises slowly to her feet, and Alison's face drains of colour because _how long had she been stood there for_?

"Were you listening?" She demands, voice sharper than usual and she sees Emily flinch and immediately regrets her tone.

"I… um. May have heard some things." She looks so _guilty_, and that's enough to tell Alison that she'd heard everything (everything that mattered, anyway), and god, this is _so _not how she was supposed to find out.

Alison was supposed to _tell _her, face to face, was supposed to allow herself to be honest with Emily for perhaps the first time ever, to tell her _everything_, to try and _explain _herself, and instead she's been robbed of that opportunity, and she almost wants to cry because this isn't what she _wanted_.

"Uhhhhh," Hanna says, clearly feeling the awkward tension in the room and shuffling her way towards the door. "We'll just leave you two to… yeah." Spencer follows her hastily out, and the door shuts behind them with a click of finality.

"Emily I - "

"Was that really true?" The brunette cuts her off, moving towards her with quick, sure steps until she's in-front of Alison and the blonde swallows hard because this is _it_, this is the moment that she's been dreading, because this is where she has to open herself up to someone else and trust that they won't crush her heart to dust, and most terrifying of all is the realization that she would _deserve _that, from Emily, because she knows she's broken her heart before.

Probably more than once.

"Of course it's all true," she murmurs, forces herself to meet Emily's unflinching gaze, to look into her eyes and hope that her sincerity shines through in her own because she _needs _Emily to believe her. She needs it more than she's ever needed anything else in the world.

"Why did you never tell me before? Why didn't you tell me the night that I kissed you?"

"Because I… I was scared. That you'd regret it. That you… that you wouldn't want to let me back in after all the things I did to you, after I made you think that I didn't want you. And I couldn't bear the thought of that so I didn't bring it up, because at least if we didn't talk about it then I wouldn't have to see the look on your face when you told me that I lost my chance with you two years ago when I was too cowardly to take it, and I could at least pretend that we still had a chance together."

"You're an idiot," is all Emily says and Alison is startled, hurt flashing across her features before the brunette's hands are cupping the side of her face and titling her head up before she can look away. "You're an idiot to think that I ever gave up on you. On the thought of _us. _To think that I ever _could_. Because I've always loved you and I probably always will, and I thought you _knew _that."

"Just because you love me doesn't mean that you want to be with me." Her voice is soft, and she can barely force out the words because she's baring her heart and soul and she's never _done _this before and if it all goes horribly wrong she's not sure she'll be able to survive it. "After everything I've done - "

"If I hadn't forgiven you for that I wouldn't be in this room with you right now. I wouldn't have kissed you the other night, and I sure as hell wouldn't be telling you that I love you. But I _do_, and I _do _forgive you because I think you've changed – I _know _you've changed – and if you think that I don't want to be with you then…"

"I'm an idiot?" She supplies when Emily trails off, a soft smile crossing her lips and Emily grins and she looks so beautiful that Alison's breath catches in her throat because _how _is she this lucky?

"Yep." The brunette's hands slide from her jaw and to curve around the back of her neck. "Because that's all I've ever wanted."

When Emily kisses her, it feels like coming home.


	9. 1000 Times

**Title 1000 Times**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: Do you think you could write something along the lines of all the girls playing spin the bottle (mainly focusing on ali/em/hanna), and like hanna spins and it lands on em and it drives ali insane.**

**Set before Alison's disappearance. **

**Reposted, sorry it messed up and thank you to those who let me know about it :)**

* * *

Parties are always so… _messy_.

It's only been raging on for just over three hours, and the place is already trashed, empty cups and bottles lining the floor (along with a few bodies that clearly couldn't handle their liquor), the music pounding through the walls of the cabin, and it's a good thing that this place is out of the way because otherwise Alison is pretty sure the police would have been called a long time ago.

It's tradition for Noel Khan to throw an end-of-year party (among others, throughout the year), and things get crazy pretty quickly, and this one is no exception. There are people playing strip poker in the next room over, people practically mounting each other on the make-shift dancefloor set up outside, and Alison eyes everyone with distaste because don't any of these people have any self-_control_?

She's only faintly buzzed herself, mainly because the thought of doing or saying something stupid is unappealing – she has an _image _to maintain, and it's not one that involves getting herself trashed and throwing up in the rose bushes (yes, she _has _seen someone do that already tonight).

Her friends, though, are a different story. Hanna, never able to control her booze intake, is already slurring her words; Aria's eyes are wide and her face is flushed in that way that happens when she's had just a little too much to drink; Spencer looks like she's about ready to doze off, from her seat in the armchair in the corner; and Emily… Emily is trying her hardest to flirt with everyone in view, and Alison doesn't know if the brunette's trying to make _her _jealous, or that annoying boyfriend of hers, who's no doubt locked away in a room somewhere trying to feel up someone that actually wants to be with him.

She doesn't know _why_ Emily's with him, he's obnoxious and irritating, and why would you stay with someone that spread around the rumour that you were sleeping together just to improve his reputation?

Alison just can't _understand _it. But then she supposes she has no right to judge, with the way she treats Emily herself. It's selfish, she knows, to lead Emily on, because she knows how the brunette feels about her, can see the love in her eyes, and sometimes she wishes that she could love her back, without worrying about what that would _mean_.

But she can't do that, can't admit how she feels, so instead she lets Emily think that… whatever it is that they're doing doesn't mean anything to her, when in fact she treasures each and every moment that they spend together.

But she's a master at hiding her true emotions, at creating an iron mask that she wears over her features like a second skin, taking pride in the fact that no-one can read her and know what she's truly thinking.

"Let's play spin the bottle!" Some drunken kid yells, snapping Alison out of her reverie, and the blonde rolls her eyes because why on _earth _is a game where you have to make out with random drunk people so _popular_?

She declines to play, stays leaning up against the wall at her back, and watches. That's how she survives – she watches, and she uses the things that she sees, the secrets that she finds out, as weapons, exploits them, because if she has something to hold over someone then they can't have any power over her.

The other four all play, though, and the circle on the floor grows pretty large, taking up pretty much the whole of the room. Then an empty beer bottle is placed reverently in the centre, and the game begins.

It's a pretty boring affair, if Alison's being honest with herself. That is, until the bottle lands on Emily, with Hanna being the one who had spun it. Alison's eyes narrow, and she watches a flush colour Emily's cheeks as there's a loud cheer from all the boys in the room, egging them on (_honestly_).

Emily's eyes dart over briefly to meet Alison's gaze, and the blonde tells herself that it's not jealousy coursing through her veins as the brunette turns her attention instead to Hanna, and they meet each other in the centre of the circle – it's Emily who moves forward to press their lips together, and it's a two-second event that has a load groan echoing from all the guys who have their attention fixed firmly on the pair.

"Oh, come on! That was barely a kiss," one of them protests.

"Yeah," Noel Khan chips in, appearing in the doorway with his trademark smirk on his face, one hand clutching a plastic cup and the other wrapped around some random girls' waist. "My cabin, my rules – you gotta kiss properly. Tongue and everything."

Emily's biting her lip, and Alison can tell that Hanna's just enjoying the attention being on her, for once, instead of Alison – the two of them look like they're locked in a silent conversation, and then one of Emily's shoulders lifts in a half-shrug and they're kissing again.

Only this one isn't chaste; it's anything but – one of Hanna's hands is tangled up in Emily's hair, one of Emily's is on Hanna's thigh, and Alison can't look away, no matter how much she wants to. She's powerless to, even as her jaw clenches in anger (and she has no right to be angry, no right at all, because she's a bitch and a bully and she breaks Emily's heart pretty much every time she so much as breathes and she deserves so much more but Alison is selfish, desperately, inherently selfish, and she wants Emily all to herself, and this isn't… this isn't supposed to _hurt_, like this, to see her kissing someone else, and it's not like she _hasn't _seen it before, because Emily has Ben, but this is… different, somehow, maybe because it's with a girl, maybe it's because it's with someone they both know so well, maybe it's just because Emily actually looks like she's into it), and when she sees that they're _actually _using tongue she has to tear her gaze away because she feels sick, sick to her stomach, and she wishes she could blame it on the alcohol but she knows that she can't.

The cheering around the room just grows louder and louder as they keep on kissing, and eventually Alison can't stand it – she just needs to get out of there, all of sudden, can't _deal _with the anger swirling through her, doesn't know how to make it go _away _– so she spins on her heel and weaves her way through the bodies around the room and heads for the back of the cabin.

There's a room back there that the Kahn's use for storage that no-one ever goes in, and that's why she likes it. She usually finds herself there at least once whenever there's a party like this going on, likes the quiet (or the relative quiet, because you can hear the music _everywhere_, even if you head off into the woods a little), likes to just be _alone _for a few minutes and collect her thoughts, and usually no-one even notices that she's gone.

She doesn't bother flicking on the light when she slides through the door, not wanting to alert the horny teenagers around the place that there's another room in the cabin where they can get naked, and just goes and stands against the wall opposite, leaning against it and titling her head back against the wood, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath – she quickly regrets it when dust fills her mouth and she coughs, taking a hasty swig from the cup still clutched tightly in her hand.

It's some sort of fruit punch, no doubt laced with a dozen different types of alcohol, and she decides _fuck it_ and downs the whole thing in pretty much one gulp, because maybe if she drinks enough to make her brain fuzzy then she can get _away _from her thoughts, get out of her mind, and stop replaying Emily and Hanna's kiss in her head because she doesn't _care_ that it happened, she _doesn't_.

(Except she does, because she wishes it was her, wishes that she could kiss Emily like that, like it was easy, like it was all that mattered, and she wishes she could think like that, wishes things could be easy, but they aren't and life's hard and life sucks and she's supposed to be _above _petty emotions like jealously, but she's _not _because she wants to strangle Hanna, wants to drag her outside and scream at her, and the urge is so strong that her hands shake, and she itches to move, but she forces herself to stay still because that wouldn't _help _anything).

She's so focused on herself that she doesn't notice the door opening until it's clicking shut, and her eyes fly open and her body tenses, because literally no-one knows about this room apart from Noel and… Emily, who's standing in-front of the door now, watching her with curious eyes.

"What are you doing in here?" She snaps, because she hasn't had time to make herself be _okay_ and she's pretty sure her emotions are written all over her face and she's always prided herself on being able to keep everything under control, and she refuses to let that slip now, she just _can't_.

Not in-front of Emily, who wields enough power to bring Alison to her knees (she knows that Emily thinks it's the opposite, that Alison's just playing with her like a toy, and she has to keep letting her think that because if she realized… if she _knew_, what she meant, to Alison, then that's not… _acceptable_, to let someone have that much control over her, _she _holds the power, the control, _no-one _else).

"I came to see if you were okay," the brunette shrugs, and she actually sounds _concerned _and god, Alison doesn't deserve her. Doesn't deserve so much of a second of her time, and instead she holds her heart in her hands. "You rushed out of there pretty quick."

"I thought you'd be too busy making out with Hanna to notice." She's always been known to lash out when she's upset, or angry – or pretty much any emotion ever, really, because that's the only way she's ever been taught to respond – and she sees Emily flinch a little at the acerbic tone of her voice.

"Why do you care what I do?" She says it quietly, but there's a challenge hidden in her eyes, and Alison wonders if the alcohol coursing through her veins is the reason for it – if she'll even remember any of this in the morning.

"I don't." The lie (like so many others), slips easily from her lips, and Emily just shakes her head, eyes never leaving Alison's face. "Don't flatter yourself, Em." She hates herself for doing this, hates that she keeps pushing Emily away when all she wants to do is drag her closer.

"Why did you run out so quickly, then?"

"It wasn't because of you and Hanna, if that's what you think," she scoffs. "I needed some air."

"So you came to this dusty old room instead of going outside?" Emily takes several steps closer to Alison, and the blonde just watches her, sees the flush staining her cheeks, the way her eyes are a little unfocused, and she's sure, now, that it's the alcohol that's making her this brazen. "I think you're jealous."

"How much have you had to drink again?" Alison questions, folding her arms across her chest as Emily comes to a standstill just in-front of her.

"Not enough to forget about you." Her eyes are wide, haunted, and Alison knows that she's telling the truth – sometimes she wants to forget, too, about Emily, to forget how much she wants her, to forget about how much she hurts her (and she knows it's all her own fault, she _knows _that, she does but she can't… she can't open herself up to Emily like she wants to, can't taint her, can't break her heart even more than she already has because she couldn't bear to see it). "And don't change the subject."

"I wasn't." She can feel the heat from Emily's body, tries not to let her gaze drop and linger at the obscene neckline of the dress that the brunette's wearing. "I was just pointing out that you must be drunk to imply that I'd be jealous of _Hanna_."

"You still haven't denied it."

"I am _not _jealous of Hanna," she says, forcing out the lie through her teeth because she _is_, Emily is hers, hers to kiss, hers to want, hers to… love. "Go date her for all I care. She's your type, right? Blonde hair, blue eyes?"

"Why are you such a bitch?" It's the first time Emily's ever called her that, and it stings – she's heard it a thousand times before, but this one hurts the most. "Do you like, get off on it or something?"

"Oh, you'd _love _to know what gets me off, wouldn't you?" She hides the fact that Emily's actually hurt her under a smirk, because this? Seeing how far she could push someone before they snapped? _This _is what she's good at. "Do you think about it, late at night when you're all alone? Do you think about making me - "

She's cut off when one of Emily's hands slams into the wall beside her head, and Alison flinches but meets the brunette's eyes defiantly – they're dark, angry, but the blonde would be lying if she said that this whole situation didn't send a thrill down her spine because it so definitely did.

"Shut _up_," Emily says, voice shaking, and Alison hates that she does this to her (hates that Emily lets her), but they've gone too far to take any of it back now.

"Make me," she breathes back, and for a long second she thinks that Emily's just going to turn and walk away, to leave Alison there when she's practically _aching _to reach for the brunette, drag her closer and kiss her until she forgot all about Hanna, until all she could think of was Alison, and she's selfish and self-centred to want that but she does anyway, and when Emily finally does lean down to press their lips together Alison lets out a little sigh because _yes_ this is what she wants, this is what she always wants – what she always wants and will never, ever ask for.

Emily's kisses are always soft and slow and chaste, but this is different – this is messy and clumsy and _desperate_, and Alison can't get enough of it. She's greedier than normal, because she knows she can brush this off in the morning, knows that Emily might not remember it, not well, anyway, and it's that that has her hands reaching for the brunette's hips, yanking her closer so that she's pressed flat against the wall by the weight of Emily's body.

A thigh ends up pressed between her legs as Emily's tongue slides into her mouth and she groans at the feeling, her fingers digging into Emily's skin, and both the brunette's hands are still resting on the wall beside Alison's head and she wishes they weren't, wishes that they were running all over her body because _god_ she wants to know what that feels like.

She wants _Emily_, more than she's ever wanted anything in her entire life, and that _scares _her, it's always scared her, that's why she keeps her at arm's length, can't bear to let her guard down around her, and that's why this is _dangerous_, because it would be so easy to just fall into Emily but she _can't. _

So she tears her mouth away, her hands coming to rest instead on Emily's shoulders and she pushes her away before she can change her mind, ignores the look of confusion that flashes across the brunette's face and just closes her eyes because she can't bear it, can't bear any of this, so she shuts her eyes and just tries to get her breathing back under control because she just needs some time to put herself back together again and then it'll all be okay.

Except she doesn't count on Emily doing what she's never, ever done before – turning and walking away from her – and as the door of the room clicks shut behind the brunette Alison's eyes finally open and she has to will herself not to cry.


	10. Take Care

**Title: Take Care**

**Rating: K+**

**Prompt: Ali is sick and Emily takes care of her (with a little help from Mrs Fields). **

* * *

The ringing of her phone is what wakes her up, and she groans because it's so _loud _and she feels like _shit_ and with each second that ticks by with the incessant ringing it feels like she's having a sledgehammer smashed into her skull and where the hell _is _the damn thing?

When she finds it she doesn't bother checking the caller ID, just burrows her head back under her pillow because the light coming from her window _hurts _her eyes, and presses the phone to her and makes a non-committal noise so that whoever's on the other end knows that she's actually answered.

_"Ali?"_ Emily's voice echoes down the line, and despite the fact that Alison's head feels like it's going to explode and her stomach is in knots, the sound of Emily's voice still makes her smile. _"Are you okay? Why weren't you in school today?" _

"I'm sick," she mumbles back, and she wonders what time it is. She'd woken up that morning feeling like she did now and had promptly rolled back over and gone back to sleep because there was no way in hell that she could leave the house like this.

_"You're sick? Is your dad there?" _

"No," she replies with a bitter laugh, because he's _never _there. "That would mean that he'd have to actually look me in the eye for more than two seconds. I'm on my own."

_"Then I'm coming over_."

"Em, no you don't have to - " But the brunette has already hung up, and Alison can't bring herself to ring her back and tell her not to come, because she's not sure she can make it out of bed without help and she could _really _use some of those extra-strong painkillers that are hiding in one of the kitchen cupboards.

She drops her phone back onto the bed and curls onto her side in an attempt to alleviate the pain in her stomach, but to no avail. She doesn't know how long it is before she hears the front door creak open, and then there's the soft sound of footsteps on the stairs before there's a soft knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she calls without moving, and she hears the door open and close and then her bed dips as the weight of another person settles at Alison's back. "I really hope that's you, Em."

"Of course it's me." Alison didn't even realize she'd been holding her breath until she hears the sound of the brunette's voice and she instantly relaxes – if it _had_ been A she's pretty sure she wouldn't be up for putting up much of a fight. "Are you going to emerge from your cave anytime soon?"

"Trust me, it's better for both of us if I stay under here." Alison tugs the covers tighter around her body as Emily tries to pry them away. "I look awful."

"Not possible," Emily says softly, and it warms Alison's heart that, even after all this time, even after all the things that she's done, that the brunette is still so sweet to her. "Come on, Ali."

With a groan the blonde relaxes her hold, allows Emily to pull the covers away, and she's not wearing much beneath – she'd had hot and cold flushes all night, had eventually stripped down to just her underwear and a thin tank top, and then when she started to shiver she could bury herself under her sheets – and she hears Emily's sharp intake of breath (quickly disguised as a cough), as she realizes Alison's state of undress.

"Can I get you anything?" When Alison pushes the pillow off her head and rolls to finally face the brunette, she has to hide a smirk when she sees Emily hastily averting her eyes. "Water? Aspirin?" A hand comes to rest across the blonde's forehead. "You have a fever."

"I'm fine," she replies, even though she feels awful, wants to just curl up and maybe die if that'll make the pain go away. "I could use some painkillers, though."

"Okay. Where are they?"

"Kitchen cupboard, same as always." As the brunette heads back downstairs she wonders if it's as weird for Emily as it is for her, to come back to a house where nothing had really changed, despite the amount of time that's passed. It's even stranger to think that other people have lived there, in-between – she wonders if _that's _weird for Emily, too considering her relationship with Maya, but decides not to ask about it.

She doesn't want to know.

When she hears the sound of voices from downstairs she frowns, propping herself up on one elbow and trying to listen to what's going on, and quickly recognises the sound of Emily's Mom's voice mixing with the brunette's own and hastily tugs her sheets back over her body as footsteps approach her room once more.

"I'm sorry," Emily starts off with as she walks backwards through the door, a glass of water held in one hand and the box of painkillers in the other. "I made the mistake of telling my Mom why I was coming over here and she insisted on making sure you were okay."

"Like mother, like daughter," Alison says with a wry smile as she swallows the two pills Emily hands her, and the brunette perches on the bed beside the blonde, and Alison can't help but curl into her side and she has to hide a smile when one of Emily's hands slides over her shoulders, drawing errant shapes over the blonde's skin. "Did I miss anything at school today?"

"Not really, just Aria and Hanna still refusing to talk to each other." Alison closes her eyes as she listens to Emily talk, soothed by the hand on her back and just by the fact that she's _there_, and she already feels a little better. "Hanna was drinking again, I'm really worried about her."

"I am, too," Alison murmurs, because she is, and she knows she used to be a shitty friend and just an all-round shitty person but she's _trying _to better, for all of them (but mainly just for Emily because Emily is her everything). "She needs an intervention or something."

"But it'd need all of us and Aria can barely even look her in the eye and I don't know why," Emily sighs, and Alison's reminded by how much she _cares_, about everything and every_one _in her life, and it's such a stark contrast to everything that Alison's ever known that it blows her away.

"They'll work it out, Em," the blonde reassures her, "the four of you always do – just look at everything you've been through, and you're all still stronger than ever." It hurts, to think that she's not a part of that group anymore, not really, when she'd used to be the glue at the centre that held it all together, but she supposes she deserves it.

That and a hell of a lot worse.

"I know, it's just hard." The brunette falls silent then, and Alison feels her eyes grow heavy as she listens to the sound of Emily's even breathing, her head titling to rest on her shoulder and she feels _safe_ within the circle of Emily's arms, she feels _loved_, and it's… just really, really nice.

"Don't let me fall asleep," she murmurs drowsily, even as she can already feel herself drifting off.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to wake up to find you gone."

"I'm not going anywhere, Ali, I promise." Emily's arms tighten around her, and she brushes a soft kiss against Alison's forehead, and Alison hasn't been sleeping well, not since A almost strangled her to death, but with Emily there it's easy to drift off, because she knows that the brunette won't let anything happen to her on her watch.

x-x-x

"I'm just saying, sweetheart, that you don't have to hide your relationship from me, I'm not - "

"For the _last _time, Mom, I'm not _in _a relationship - "

"So do you let all of your _friends _fall asleep in your arms like that?" Alison's woken up by the sound of soft bickering, but she doesn't open her eyes – she's too comfortable, wrapped around Emily (one of her legs is tangled up with the brunette's own, and she's got an arm thrown over Emily's waist), and besides, she's kind of curious where this conversation's going. "Come on, Emily, I'm not blind."

"Mom, I'm not… _we're _not… there's nothing going _on_."

"Well it certainly looks like there is." Alison feels Emily's heavy sigh of exasperation, has to fight a smile. "Do you want there to be something? Or are you still 'working on it'?"

"I… don't know, okay? But can we please talk about something else?" Emily's voice turns pleading, and Alison decides to help her out, shifting slightly and stretching her arms a little before cracking her eyes open – Mrs Fields is sat right on the end of the bed, and she's watching Alison and her daughter with curious eyes, and Alison wonders how much she knows.

"Hi Mrs Fields," she manages a little blearily, rolling away from Emily a little and immediately missing the feeling of the brunette's body pressed against her. "You didn't have to come out here."

"Nonsense, sweetheart, I wanted to check that you were alright. Do you need anything? Some water, perhaps?"

"Uh, yeah, okay."

"Emily?" Mrs Fields smiles sweetly at her daughter, but Alison can tell that she's plotting something. "Why don't you go get that?" The brunette and her mother stay locked in a staring contest for several long seconds before Emily relents with a sigh and a shake of her head and disentangles herself from Alison, grabbing the glass off of the bedside table and moving towards the door – she turns to look back at them when she reaches the doorway, but Mrs Fields just waves her away and with an apologetic look at Alison she disappears into the hall.

"Is this the part where you tell me not to break her heart?" Alison asks as soon as Emily's out of the door, because she figures she may as well just cut right to the chase – Pam doesn't say anything at first, just watches her with dark, unreadable eyes.

"I think you already did, the day you disappeared."

"We both know that I couldn't control that."

"Hmm. I suppose." Alison meets the elder woman's gaze head on, unflinching, because she knows that she doesn't believe that Alison was kidnapped but she's not going to change her story now. "Regardless I just… I don't want to see her hurting like that again. I don't want to see you… lead her on."

"And I have no intention of doing that." And she _doesn't _because Emily is… Emily is everything to her and she hates to see her hurting, can't bear it, has no intention of doing that to her ever again, because she just might… _love _her and that terrifies Alison because she's never been in love before, had thought she never would be, ever, but Emily makes her believe in it again, Emily looks at Alison like she's worthy of it when she'd always thought that she never would be. "I… I care about her. A lot."

"The same way that she cares about you?"

"I hope so," she replies softly, and she has to look away because she's wearing her heart on her sleeve and she _hates _it, but the thought that… the thought that she'd left it too late, lost her chance because she was a coward, that just… _breaks _her and that's the reason why she hasn't been able to bear to bring up the kisses she and Emily had traded the other night in this very bed, because she doesn't want to know if Emily regretted it, can't stand the thought that the brunette might regret what had become the best night of Alison's life so far. "I really, really hope so."

"Well maybe you should tell her that," Pam replies gently, and when Alison dares to look back at her there's a soft smile on her face. "Because I think she'd like very much to hear it."


	11. I Wanna

**A/N: Overall story rating's changed because of this prompt and another I'll post tomorrow.**

* * *

**Title: I Wanna**

**Rating: M**

**Prompt: Could you write an awkward Emison walk-in on masturbation scene?**

* * *

She tells herself that she's not being overbearing and stalkerish as she grabs the spare key from underneath the plant pot outside the front door. She tells herself that she's just _concerned _and it's okay.

But really she's terrified, because Alison had suddenly stopped replying to her texts about an hour ago, and the couple of times she'd tried to ring her the phone had gone straight to voicemail, and she knows that the blonde's home alone because her Dad doesn't finish work until late, and she's just… really, really scared that something's happened to her.

And she does _knock_ before she lets herself in to the blonde's house, but when she gets no answer she slides the key into the lock and heaves the door open and pads quietly inside. It's silent within, and she does a quick once-over of downstairs before she heads up to Alison's room – she's about to call out to let the blonde know that she's there when she hears a noise come from upstairs and freezes, listening intently.

It doesn't come again, but it's enough for Emily to make her way up cautiously, trying not to be as quiet as possible. And maybe she's just being really paranoid, but she'd rather scare the shit out of Alison if she's okay than risk someone knowing that she's coming if she _isn't_.

The blonde's bedroom door is half-shut, and as Emily approaches she hears the noise again, and… oh _fuck_ she swears, now that she's closer and can hear better, that it's a moan and oh, god, what if she's in there with someone?

What if that kiss the other night had meant nothing to her and she really has been playing Emily this whole time?

It's unthinkable, and yet she can't quite force herself to turn around – she's frozen on the DiLaurentis' landing, listening to the sound of Alison doing… god knows what with god knows _who_, and she shouldn't be there, she should _leave_, right _now_, but… she can't quite force herself to move.

"God, _yes_." Emily's mouth goes dry because if that isn't the hottest thing she's ever heard, but she feels… wrong, _dirty_, to stand out here and listen to this, and she shakes her head to clear it and turns to sneak her way back down the stairs and out of the house, content to pretend that this never happened (though she suspects the sound of Alison's moans will haunt her dreams for many nights to come).

"_Emily_." The sound of her name has her whirling back around, staring dumbstruck at Alison's bedroom door, half-terrified that the blonde had discovered that she was there, but everything is as it was before, and Jesus Christ, was Alison in there thinking about her?

_Fuck, fuck, FUCK_, she thinks as her heart pounds in her chest because she can't turn around and leave after that, she _can't_, but she also can't just waltz into Alison's room but god, she wants to. She wants to _see _her, wants to know that this isn't just a really, really good dream, and her feet are moving before she can even think, and yeah, she's definitely going to hell for this.

But she thinks it might almost be worth it when she reaches the blonde's door and can see into the room, because Alison is lying on her bed with the sheets twisted around her, her eyes squeezed closed and her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled, and her legs are spread on the bed, one hand moving beneath the sheets and god, Emily shouldn't be watching this but she can't look away.

"Emily," Alison breathes again, and her hand works between her thighs more frantically and she's biting down on her bottom lip hard and Emily has never seen a more erotic sight in her _life _and there's suddenly an uncomfortable ache between her thighs and she's pretty sure that she could come from just watching this.

And then Alison's eyes flicker open and Emily freezes, because she knows she's visible from where she's stood in the doorway, and Alison's eyes widen as she sees her standing there, and Emily's mouth opens to explain away what she's _doing _there but she can't seem to form words because she's frozen in place under Alison's dark, dark gaze.

She doesn't know what she expects – something along the lines of Alison screaming at her to _get out_, and for it to set whatever fragile progress they've made since Alison returned to Rosewood back a hundred years – but it's definitely not for Alison's hand to start moving again, her lips parting in a soft moan and her eyes are still, still locked with Emily's and oh, god, she's not going to make it through the night.

"Come here." Alison's voice is husky, and it's the hottest thing that she's ever heard – she moves without thinking, crossing the room and still not quite believing her luck, sure that she's going to wake up at any moment and find out that this was all just a really, really vivid dream.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Emily can barely breathe, because Alison's looking at her like _that_, and her chest is heaving and she's not wearing a bra and she's so fucking _beautiful_, and _god_, this close she can _hear _the sound of Alison's fingers sliding through her own wetness and Emily thinks that she could probably come on the spot. "Do you?"

"N-no." She manages to force the word out even though her mouth is dry and her throat is tight, and she can barely even _hear _Alison over the pounding of her heart in her ears, and she can barely even believe that this is _happening _because the idea that Alison wants her is just… everything that she'd never thought could be possible.

"Let me show you." Emily nearly passes out when Alison reaches for her with her free hand, dragging Emily down beside her, and the brunette can't help but kiss her, cupping the side of her face with one hand, thumb stroking across her cheek. "Touch me," Alison demands in a breathless whisper when their lips part, and her eyes are dark with lust and Emily is drunk on desire but she doesn't want their first time to be like this, she wants it to mean something, to both of them, she's _always _wanted that.

"I-I don't…" She finds it hard to concentrate with Alison's eyes on her, and the blonde's left hand it between her legs and Emily wants nothing more than to rip it away and replace it with hers, and god, with her mouth, but she _can't_.

"Not there then," Alison breathes, seeming to understand the reluctance that Emily can't even begin to put into words. "Just…. Please, just touch me." Emily settles for pressing their lips together once more, her tongue dipping into Alison's mouth as she leans up on left elbow so that she can lean half on-top of the blonde, and she lets her right hand dance across Alison's skin, revelling in the moan that it tears from Alison's throat and Emily feels her hand working more frantically between her thighs as the brunette's hand trails under the hem of the blonde's shirt.

Alison's moans increase in regularity as Emily's fingers find a straining nipple and circle lightly, and the blonde's free hand finds the small of the brunette's back, nails digging into her skin hard and Emily can tell she's getting close and breaks their kiss, leaning back because she wants to _see _this, she wants to _see _Alison DiLaurentis come undone and she wants the memory branded on her mind for the rest of eternity.

"Look at me," she murmurs, her nails dragging across the taut skin of Alison's stomach and daringly down to trace over her hip, and Alison's eyes flutter open, her bottom lip once again ensnared between her teeth in a bid to keep herself quiet. "I want to hear you."

"_God_," Alison hisses, and Emily can feel her hips bucking against her hand, and she digs her nails into her skin, wants to leave a mark on her so that she can remember this, can remember Emily's eyes on her. "Em-Emily."

The brunette's eyes nearly flutter closed at the sound of her name falling from Alison's lips when she sounds so _needy_, and she's never been so turned on in her life, the ache between her legs is unbearable and her underwear is soaked but she can't bring herself to slide her hand beneath her jeans because she doesn't want to miss a minute of seeing Alison like this.

Alison, whose back arches of the bed when she comes; Alison, who throws her head back against the bed as her eyes slam shut; Alison, who cries out Emily's name, her hand dropping from the brunette's back and twisting into a fist in the bed sheets, and she's the most beautiful thing that Emily's ever seen in her life.


	12. Explode

**Title: Explode**

**Rating: M**

**Prompt: Mini emison fic where they go for a swim alone in the pool after school.**

* * *

"You never swim anymore." Alison finds her as she's sitting on the bleachers after swim practice has ended (because she takes her new assistant coach role seriously, is always the last one to leave and lock up behind everyone else), the blonde sauntering into the room and making her way over to where Emily sits.

"Because I can't," she replies and a note of bitterness creeps into her voice because swimming had been her life, had been her everything, had been the only thing that had gotten her through Alison's disappearance and it's been _ripped _from her, and how can she explain that she can't force herself to get back into the pool because it _hurts_, because she can't do it like she used to, and that it kills her? "A saw to that."

"You can still swim, though," Alison points out, dropping her back onto the floor beside where Emily's sat, and there's a mischievous look in her eyes that Emily knows well – it's the one that means she's up to no good. "Can't you?"

"Not like I used to. Not like I _want _to."

"Well, _I _want to go for a swim." There's a slight smirk on Alison's face when Emily glances at her – and then her hands are reaching for the hem of her shirt and dragging it over her head and Emily's brain sort of short-circuits because Alison is _undressing_ in-front of her, and then the blonde's standing there in nothing but a swimsuit that's a little on the skimpy side and Emily can't help but let her eyes linger on the curves of Alison's body even as she hates herself for it because Alison shouldn't still have this kind of _hold _over her (except she does, she always has, she always _will_). "And I think you should come join me."

Emily wants to tell her, as the blonde turns and walks away to sit on the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the water, that she could get in huge trouble for this if anyone found out – she'd only been assistant coach for a few days, and she doubted the faculty would like to know that she was letting non swim-team members use the pool after school – but she finds herself unable to protest as Alison slips into the water and swims out to the centre of the pool, where she treads water and raises a challenging eyebrow at Emily.

"Come on, Em. Have a little fun. When was the last time you let yourself relax?" She remembers the last time she let herself relax perfectly well – she'd been in Alison's room, had been so relaxed that she hadn't been able to resist the allure of Alison's lips and had kissed her, and they haven't talked about it since and it's… _frustrating_ but she doesn't know how to bring it _up_.

She always wears her swimsuit underneath her clothes when she's coaching, for the image and just in-case for, whatever reason, she needs to go into the water to help out, but she still hesitates before following Alison into the water.

But then she remembers something, from before Alison had disappeared – she'd swam already, then, just not as competitively, had always dreamed of having a rendezvous in the pool late at night when there was no-one else around, and she remembers how much she'd wanted that, and thinks that she'd be stupid not to fulfil a stupid old wish when she had the chance.

So she stands up with a sigh and strips out of her clothes, dropping them onto the bleachers, and she feels the heat of Alison's gaze running over her body and blushes – the blonde watches her with dark eyes as she moves to stand at the edge of the pool, curling her toes over the end and looking down into the water below – it's getting dark, in the room, but there are tiny lights set into the side of the pool and they give the water an ethereal green glow – before deciding what the hell and diving right in, cutting through the cool water and surfacing a few metres away from Alison, who's smiling softly at her.

"See?" The blonde says as Emily tests out her shoulder, swimming forward a few strokes until she reaches the wall on the opposite side. "That wasn't so scary, was it?"

"I wasn't _scared_," she defends as Alison makes her way over to her, moving through the water with a practiced ease that Emily wouldn't have thought she could possess.

"If you say so." The blonde stops at Emily's side, and she looks more carefree in that moment than Emily's seen her in a while. "You know, I always used to have this fantasy…" Emily's head whips around to face her, so quick that Alison laughs. "That one day you'd be swimming late and I'd come find you in the pool and…"

She trails off, and Emily's throat goes dry when she sees the look in Alison's eyes and _god_ she looks so beautiful, the light from under the water flicking across her face and casting shadows, and Emily all of sudden doesn't really care that they haven't talked about that kiss yet because Alison is looking at her like _that_, and everything else suddenly seems terribly insignificant.

"And?" She prompts, and her breath hitches in her throat when Alison smirks and shifts so that she's got one arm on either side of Emily's body, trapping the brunette between her and the rough wall of the pool.

"Why don't I just show you?"

The heat of Alison's body is a stark contrast to the chill of the water as the blonde presses against her and kisses her, and Emily's hands reach greedily for her hips to pull her closer until there's not even an inch of space between them, and she's trapped within Alison's arms and it's better than she could have ever dreamed.

Her hands slide lower over slick skin as Alison's tongue slips into her mouth, cupping her ass and shifting them so that one of her thighs is between Alison's legs, and she grins when the blonde moans into her mouth, her hips grinding down, seeking out friction.

When Alison's lips leave her own it's only to trail down the side of her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her skin, and it has Emily's head titling back against the ledge behind her to give the blonde better access, and she groans when Alison's teeth graze across her pulse point, fingertips digging harder into her flesh – her reward is Alison biting down harder before she's soothing away the sting with her tongue and _Jesus_, this is definitely better than anything she could have ever imagined.

One of Alison's hands moves away from the wall and she drags a fingertip down the side of Emily's neck and over her collarbone before dipping just below the edge of her swimsuit and pausing. When the brunette opens her eyes it's to see Alison watching her through half-lidded eyes and it shouldn't be _possible _to look this gorgeous in a swimming pool with her make-up smudged under her eyes, damp hair curling around her shoulders, but Alison is (always is), absolutely, heart-stoppingly breath-taking.

"Is this okay?" The blonde murmurs, dragging her finger purposefully a little lower, and Emily's nodding before she's even finished speaking because _god_ does she want this – she's wanted this for _years_ she's not going to let the chance slip away now.

"But," she says, and she regrets what she's going to say but knows that she needs to, because this… this can't be their first time, not in a swimming pool at _school_ where technically anyone could walk in, not when she doesn't know what it would _mean _to Alison (because it would mean _everything _to her). "I don't… I don't want to have sex."

"Then we won't," Alison breathes against her lips and then she's kissing her again and all thoughts sort of… float away because Alison's tongue is in her mouth and her fingers are pushing down the strap of the brunette's swimsuit and then she's cupping her breast and Alison's thumb is teasing her nipple and she'd be _embarrassed _at the whimper that comes from the back of her throat had it not been muffled by the press of Alison's lips against her own.

Her hips buck against Alison's thigh, slotted between her own, and Alison grinds back against her and Emily's hands slide back up to her hips to steady her as they start a lazy rhythm and _god_ she's pretty sure Alison moaning into her mouth is her new favourite thing – actually no, the _sound _of her moans when their lips part and her head rests on Emily's shoulder are her new favourite thing and Emily thinks that she could probably get off from _just _that sound.

She finds it hard to remember why she didn't want to have sex with this goddess of a woman, her mind hazy with lust and desire and _want_, and there's slick heat between her thighs and an _ache_ that intensifies every time Alison lets out a breathless moan against her ear, alleviated only slightly by the pressure of Alison's thigh and she lifts one of her legs to hook around Alison's hip and _fuck _that's so much better.

"I thought you didn't want to have sex," Alison pants against the side of her neck, as Emily's hands drag the straps of the blonde's swimsuit from her shoulders so that she can touch her breasts without being impeded, and when she circles a nipple with her thumb the moan that falls from Alison's lips is _obscene _and should really be made illegal because _nothing _should sound _that _hot, and yeah, she could definitely get off from that noise alone.

"This doesn't… count," she murmurs back, because if they stop now she's pretty sure she's going to explode, because she's close, can feel it building – she twists her free hand in Alison's hair and drags their lips together and Alison comes a split second before she does, shaking against her and around her, and Alison's barely touched her and yet Emily's pretty sure that it's one of the best orgasms of her life purely because Alison is _there _and god, if she'd thought she was in love with her before then it's nothing compared to how she feels now, now that she knows what it feels like to have the blonde come undone in her arms and this isn't a memory that she's going to be able to get out of her head any time soon.


	13. Just One Yesterday

**Title: Just One Yesterday**

**Rating: T**

**Warnings: Major character death, very, very angsty.**

**Prompt: The one time she wasn't quite quick enough to save her...**

* * *

She just can't quite… believe it.

Every time she looks down at the head cradled in her lap, she can't quite… she doesn't _understand _how she could be _gone_. Just like that.

But she is gone, because Alison's body is limp in her arms, her face pale and her skin cold, and her eyes are closed but she doesn't look peaceful, she doesn't look like she's sleeping – she looks like her life has been ripped from her body, torn away with a vicious hand, and Emily doesn't think that she'll ever be okay again.

Because it's her _fault_, she'd let Alison out of her sight, she'd let the others into her head, allowed herself to believe what they'd said, to turn her against Alison – and now Alison is gone, A had gotten to her and Emily had been too late to save her, and now she's… now she's never going to be able to see her smile, hear her laugh, kiss her lips, ever again and she doesn't…

She'll never, ever be okay again.

"Emily," she hears a voice from behind her – Spencer, timid and quiet – but Emily pretends she doesn't hear her, hunches more fully over Alison's body, shielding her from the 'friends' that had put her here, from the police swarming around the place and they want her to let _go _but she can't because once she does she'll never ever hold her again. "Emily we need to - "

When Spencer's hand touches her shoulder she flinches, her back pressing against the wall and she glares up at the brunette with baleful eyes, and Spencer's hand drops to her side and Emily sees the look on her face, the utter devastation, the red rings under her eyes and the tear-tracks down her cheeks, and she wonders why _Spencer _has been crying but why she can't seem to be able to, because Alison didn't… she didn't _mean _as much to Spencer, to _any _of them, as she did to Emily, and yet her eyes remain dry.

"Don't touch me," she says, and her voice sounds foreign even to her ears, she sounds like a stranger, and she's losing herself even as she sits there, she's losing herself because she's lost Alison, she's lost a _part _of herself, too. "Don't touch _her_."

"Em, they need to… they need to look at the body. For evidence." Spencer's voice cracks, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that Spencer is hurting too, that she'd been the first one in here to see A's destruction, had tried to shield Emily from it before she'd pushed Spencer aside and dropped to her knees and gathered Alison's limp form into her arms, but there's the need to _blame_, hot and acidic and overwhelming, and Spencer is the easiest one to take it out on.

_The body_. It doesn't _real_. It makes it sound like Alison isn't real, but she is, she's the realest thing that Emily's ever known, the one that had taught her what love was, the bitter taste it could leave in your mouth and the soaring it could leave in your heart, and Alison had built her up and torn her down, and still she'd loved her.

She loved her now, loved her in spite of it all, everything she'd put her through, because Alison was her… she was her everything, and if two years of thinking that she was dead hadn't gotten her over her then she was sure nothing would.

Except now she's _gone_, she's really, really _gone_, and this time she's not coming back. At least last time there had been the tiny spark of hope, until they'd found the body in the backyard but then even after that, when they'd all seen Alison but thought it was a dream.

But she can't come back from this.

Emily isn't sure she can come back from it, either. She hadn't _told _her. She hasn't told her that she still loved her, she hadn't told her that she still meant the world to her, she hadn't told her that that kiss wasn't just her trying to figure out if she still felt the same, but that it had been her doing what she hadn't been able to for so long.

And Alison had kissed her _back_, had kissed her long into the night, but Emily had been too scared to bring it up in the morning, barely even able to look Alison in the eye because what if she hadn't meant it and things went back to how they'd been before, and Emily's heart had been crushed in the palm of Alison's hand once more?

She'd give anything for that, now. She'd give anything to feel the cold stab of Alison's cruel words in her heart instead of this echoing numbness that's spread throughout her whole body, and her heart is heavy in her chest, it's shattered and cracked and irreparable, it's gone just like Alison is, limp and dead and lifeless and she can't remember what it's like to feel anything else.

"Ma'am." Distantly she hears the voice of a police officer, through the roaring sound in her ears, and when she glances up she sees that he's stood just behind Spencer, looking down at her with concern. "We really need to move her as soon as possible."

"I know, but…" Spencer gestures helplessly towards where Emily still sits, Alison still wrapped in her arms and she can't let her go, she _can't _because as soon as she does her world is going to change. These are her last few precious minutes with Alison and she _won't _give them up, she _won't_, they'll have to pry her away – and she realizes belatedly, when she sees a few other officers approaching, that that might be what's about to happen and she feels sick to her stomach because they _can't_ take Alison away from her.

"Emily," Spencer tries again, kneeling down and Emily can tell that she's trying to be strong, that out of the four of them she's the only one who's managed to pull herself together. "I know that - "

"You don't know _anything_." Her voice is venomous, because there's still the need to blame, it's there in her mind, screaming that this is Spencer's fault even though she knows the brunette is no more to blame than she herself is, but her rationality's gone, it fled her when she sprinted into this basement and found Alison crumpled on the floor, when their phones had chimed with a text and when her world had ended.

"Emily please, they're going to force you out of here anyway, it's… it'd be better if you just came with me. I know you don't want to leave her but… But we can't do anything for her now. But these guys can, okay?"

She laughs at that, bitter and hollow, because when have the police in Rosewood ever done anything to _help _them? To help _Alison_? And Detective Tanner is there, in the background, her face haunted, and Emily wants to strangle her, wants to _hurt _her, like she's hurting, because she's spent weeks and weeks poking holes in Alison's story and wearing her down and making her feel unsafe and now she's _dead_ and no-one had done anything to stop it.

_She _hadn't done anything to stop it.

"Em," Hanna appears over Spencer's shoulder, and her voice is hoarse and her arms are wrapped around Aria whose face is buried in the side of the blonde's neck and she's shaking, crying, and Emily still hasn't, and she wonders if there's something wrong with her. "Come on. Let's get some fresh air, okay? She'll… she'll be okay, if you leave her."

"But she's not okay," Emily whispers, and her voice breaks, she's breaking, she's unravelling and she doesn't know how to stop it, doesn't want to stop it because she can't go _on_, she can't go on in a world where Alison doesn't exist, she can't _do _this again, she's not strong enough, and maybe she never was.

"I know, sweetie, but," Hanna releases her hold on Aria and the brunette whirls around, unable to face the sight of Alison's body, before crouching down next to Spencer, "but we can't fix that now. The best thing we can do is let the police take it from here okay?"

"But I'll never… I'll never be able to hold her again." Emily sees Spencer's eyes fill with fresh tears and watches her turn away, and she remembers that Spencer thought that Toby was dead once too and maybe she understands what Emily's going through more than anyone else.

"Maybe you should think… you should think about the last time you did before this, instead." Hanna's voice is gentle, calming in a way that Spencer's wasn't, and Hanna has always been the one she'd been closest too, and she doesn't protest when the blonde reaches out and gently pries her hands away from where they're been fisted in the material of Alison's jacket. "Come on, Em."

She lets herself be pulled to her feet, but her legs buckle as soon as she's upright, and it's only because of the solid weight of Hanna on her right and Spencer on her left that keeps her standing, and she can't help thinking as she looks down at Alison for what could be the last time that she looks much smaller than this, she looks _young_, she looks like she used to, before she went to hell and back, and Emily thinks for the first time that maybe she's in a better place now, a place where she can't be haunted be A, somewhere where she can finally be happy.

Hanna and Spencer lead her up the steps of the basement and she hears the flurry of police activity from behind them but can't bear to turn around, doesn't want to look at that room ever again, but she knows that it's going to be branded on the back of her eyelids whenever she closes her eyes for the rest of her life.

The night air is cold, and it hits her face like a breath of fresh air, and there are people everywhere, crime scene tape separating them from the gathering crowd, and Emily can see reporters and it disgusts her, how a girl is dead and yet all they want is to know the story.

She sees Aria, huddling in Ezra's arms off to one side, and not too far away from them stand Toby and Caleb, their faces taut with worry – they relax when they see Hanna and Spencer, and Emily feels like she's been punched in the stomach because they all _have _someone, they have someone to love and to hold and she _doesn't_, her first love is lying dead at the bottom of a staircase, and she's all alone.

It's only then that she lets herself break down, and Hanna and Spencer aren't enough to hold her up anymore and she crumples to the ground, ignoring the flash of pain it sends through her knees as they collide with concrete, and there's blood on her hands, _Alison's _blood, and once she starts crying she just doesn't know how to stop.

She feels like she can't breathe, she doesn't _want _to breathe, she doesn't want this, any of it, she didn't want to love a woman like Alison, she didn't want to _lose _her, twice, she didn't want to find love again with someone new and then lose them, too, but she has, and sometimes she looks back at her life and she wonders how she's even alive right now.

Though she doesn't feel very alive as she curls her knees against her chest, tears streaming down her face, and Hanna's there, dropping to the floor beside her, and she clings to her, and then Spencer's there too, her arms wrapping around the both of them, and Aria joins them too, and at least, she thinks, she has the three of them to help her get through this, this time, because they're stronger now than they were three years ago.

She just hopes that they're – _she's_ – strong enough.


	14. Dare

**Title: Dare**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: This one is a combination of a few prompts which include: Alison's birthday party - the girls all stay over at Ali's and when the other three are asleep Emily takes Ali upstairs; Emily and Alison have to kiss in-front of the other girls; Alison feeling insecure about not being experienced enough for Emily. **

* * *

She always dreamt that her eighteenth birthday party would be a grand affair, a party out in the woods somewhere where she could drink the night away surrounded by half of the student body of Rosewood High, with a guy on her arm that would make every girl there insanely jealous.

She never imagined that instead she'd be content to just have a sleepover on her living room floor with her four best friends, but that's what she ends up doing – and she can't think of a more perfect way to spend it, after all they've been through.

Naturally there's still alcohol involved, because it _is _still technically a party and really, they could all use a little something to help them relax after the drama of A being back and worse than ever, and she'd told the four of them at the door that tonight they were going to switch off their phones and pretend, for once, that they were just normal teenagers.

"Let's play a gaaaaaaaame." Hanna, encouraged to drink for once instead of being advised against it, is by far the worst-off of the five of them, and Alison is half-tempted to take the bottle of vodka she's hoarding in the corner away from her.

"Like what?" Emily asks, sat beside Alison on the couch, and the blonde can't help herself from sneaking glances at the brunette out of the corner of her eye because she's absolutely breath-taking in the dress she's wearing, and Alison is kind of regretting inviting the other girls around tonight as well because she really, _really _wouldn't mind dragging Emily up to her room, yanking that dress off of her and –

"Ali?" Spencer's voice snaps her out of her daydream, and she realizes that she's been staring at Emily and flushes, turning hastily away to face Spencer instead.

"Hmm?"

"Truth or dare, are you up for it?" She nods in agreement, but she already knows what she's going to answer on every turn – she doesn't want to lie to them, to any of them, but there are some questions that she just _can't _answer truthfully, not yet, and she knows they're bound to ask about her time away.

She's not surprised by how quickly the questions turn sexual (though she kind of wishes they didn't, because she does _not _need to know _that _about Aria and Ezra), because doesn't it always? They go round in the loose circle they're sat in, Emily up before Alison, and the blonde turns to watch the brunette's reaction to whatever question the other three decide to throw at her as she picks truth.

"Are you…" It's Hanna that speaks first, lips pursed in thought, and Emily watches her warily. "Oh! I know. Are you a top or a bottom?"

Emily smirks around the lip of her beer bottle as she takes another sip of it, buying her time before answering, and she quirks an eyebrow at the blonde. "What do you think?"

"Well you kinda look like a bottom," Hanna replies, quickly enough to make it seem like she'd given the question some thought in the past, and the look of outrage that flickers across Emily's face has all four of them laughing.

"I am _not_," Emily insists, and she looks so offended that it's really kind of adorable. "And I never will be, thank you very much."

"It's not a _bad _thing," Aria tries to reassure her as Alison concentrates on topping up her drink, and there's a smirk playing around the edges of her lips because she _knows _that Emily is at least _sometimes _a bottom, and when she catches Emily's eye the brunette blushes and looks quickly away. "What's up with you two?"

"Nothing," Alison replies, still smirking, and Aria glances between her and Emily with suspicion written all over her face. "And I choose dare," she changes the subject before the brunette can ask any more questions, because she's not really sure she's ready for the three of them to know that she and Emily are sneaking around (that's what Alison calls it in her head because they haven't _labelled _it, haven't called it a relationship and she's almost too afraid to bring it up in-case Emily doesn't _want _one and just wants to fool around with no strings attached, until she can get Alison out of her system and move on with her life), because she's not ready for the judgement she knows she's going to get, she's not ready for them to think that she's just using Emily when really she loves her, loves her with a strength and a fullness that she hadn't thought she'd ever be capable of (and she can't tell her that, not yet, because it's terrifying enough to come to the realization on her own but to tell Emily about it? No, that was… _unimaginable _because what if she didn't feel the _same_?).

"I dare youuuuuu," Hanna is apparently loving the role of spokesperson, and there's a dirty smile on her mouth when she looks at Alison and she knows that she's not going to like whatever comes out of Hanna's mouth next. "To kiss…" Alison tenses up, because she can guess where this is going and she feels Emily stiffen beside her. "The person in this room who you think is the most attractive. And no, you can't kiss yourself."

Hanna chuckles to herself at her little joke and Alison glares, and it's obvious to everyone who she's going to choose, it _must _be, and she can't for the life of her understand why Hanna would _want _her to kiss Emily because hasn't she been warning the brunette away from her ever since she got back?

"Han, I don't think that - " Spencer tries to intervene, but the blonde cuts her off with a wave of her hand.

"No, no take-backs. So, who's it gonna be, Ali?" Alison's jaw sets, a muscle in her cheek twitching, and Hanna just looks out her expectantly and eventually she sighs and looks away. She catches Emily's eye and knows the look of discomfort on her face isn't feigned, wonders if she knows why Hanna's doing this. "_Well_?" The blonde prompts, and Alison rolls her eyes, shooting her one last glare before turning her body towards Emily and the brunette meets her halfway.

She feels awkward, even though she's kissed Emily a dozen times by now – but the others don't know that, and she's supposed to act like this is something new and _not _like she's wanted to do this since Emily had breezed through her front door earlier that night, Hanna in tow.

When their lips brush, it's chaste – Alison's eyes flicker closed and her hand lands on Emily's thigh to steady herself, her thumb brushing absently across the brunette's skin and she feels Emily's sharp intake of breath and can't resist kissing her a little harder, and she curls her other hand into a fist so that she doesn't bury it in Emily's hair and shove her back down on the couch because it's _tempting_ and she so, so, wants to, but she doubts that their friends want to experience _that _any time ever, so she pulls back before she gets too carried away, trying to will away the blush that stains her cheeks.

"Satisfied?" She fires at Hanna, who's watching them with abject scrutiny (Spencer and Aria look uncomfortable with the whole situation, trying to look anywhere else), but the blonde merely shrugs and the game continues.

Alison presses her back against the arm of the couch, as far away from Emily as she can possibly get because she's not entirely sure that she'll be able to control herself if she's close enough to touch the brunette, and from the way Emily shuffles backwards a little too, she guesses that she's thinking the same thing.

Hanna calls a time out before they get around to Emily again in order to grab some more drinks from the kitchen, and Spencer goes to help. Alison realizes belatedly that she needs a top-up of Coke to go with her vodka otherwise she's going to regret it in the morning and quickly hurries after them – but promptly stops just inside the doorway when she hears what the other two are talking about.

"What were you _thinking_?" Alison hears Spencer hiss, and when she peers around the edge of the doorway she sees them stood at the kitchen counter, Spencer's hands on her hips while Hanna's just opening the new bottle of vodka and taking a swig right from the bottle.

Lovely.

"I was _thinking _that if we saw them kiss then we'd be able to tell if there _was _something going on like we thought."

"And I thought we agreed to talk about it with Emily when she _isn't _wasted? And when Alison isn't around?"

"Yeah, well, I wanted to know sooner rather than later, okay?"

"They're going to know that something's up now, you've - " Alison inadvertently shifts and treads on the creaky floorboard and Spencer cuts herself off mid-sentence, and Alison curses herself before meandering into the kitchen with a fake smile plastered on her face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she says as she opens the fridge, pulling out the open bottle and pouring it into her glass as the other two try not to look guilty (and fail).

"Not at all, Ali." Spencer reassures her, and Alison just shakes her head because they dare to call _her _a liar and a manipulator when the two of them are there in her kitchen discussing her and Emily like it's any of their _business_?

When she stalks back into the other room she must have a face like thunder, because Emily takes one look at her before alarm spreads across her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mutters darkly, but she knows that Emily isn't convinced from the worried look she throws her, but Alison can't _help _it, because Hanna and Spencer and hell, presumably Aria too, all think that there's something between her and Emily that needs addressing when _she _isn't there and that _can't _be a good sign and what if they say something to Emily that turns her away from Alison for good? What would she choose, if they made her pick between them and her?

"Em, it's your go." Emily's eyes only leave Alison's face when Hanna speaks, back in her position curled up in the corner. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"I've got a good one," Aria is the first one to speak, this time, and there's a sly smile on her face. "Because girls must be so much better at it than guys – most number of orgasms given and received during sex."

Everyone's attention turns to Emily (and Alison's a little curious at the answer, herself), whose cheeks are such a bright shade of red that they practically light up the room, and she's looking resolutely down at the floor and away from everyone else.

"Come _on_, Em," Hanna prompts. "You're the only one here who's been with more than one person – except maybe Alison, I don't know what she got up to on her two years away - " Alison's teeth grind at the thinly-veiled insult but she holds her tongue,"- unless you didn't sleep with both Maya and Paige."

"No, I uh… I did." Even though she already knew that (or suspected it, at least, because Emily was freaking gorgeous and who _wouldn't _want to sleep with her?), she still feels a little stab of jealously in her gut, because they'd both gotten to touch Emily before she had, and it was all her own damn fault.

"So…?" Even Spencer's joining in now, interested expression on her face. "Give us the numbers."

"Um, well, I've never really counted…"

"Roughly, then," Hanna encourages, and Emily's head disappears in her hands and she speaks through her fingers, her voice muffled.

"I don't know, like… ten? Maybe more?" Alison's eyes widen slightly and she tries not to panic because that's… a _lot_, compared to what they've been doing, and oh god, what if she's awful in bed but Emily's just too polite to say anything?

"Wait, _what_? Jesus Christ, I think the most Caleb ever gave me was three and I'm pretty sure one of them was by accident because he had no idea what he was doing down there and you're telling me that you've had _ten_ or _more _in one go on _purpose_?"

Alison tries to focus on Hanna's obvious awe instead of the insecurity that's gnawing at her gut, because yeah, she knew that Emily was more experienced than her, and she'd _told _Emily that she'd been the first girl that she'd ever been with (the first _person _that she'd ever been with), but knowing that and knowing _this _are two completely different things and _god_ what if she really _is_ terrible at sex?

"It's really not that much of a big deal," Emily tries to shrug it off by acting nonchalant, but that does nothing to assuage Alison's doubts or the curiosity of the other three.

"Oh, yeah, it _is_," Hanna is by far the most animated, probably because of how much she's had to drink, and Emily's looking at her with a fond smile on her face as she shakes her head and Alison just kind of wants to shake _Hanna _for starting this stupid game in the first place. "Seriously, like, let's you and me go upstairs and you can show me what you've got."

Alison stiffens at Hanna's words, and Emily glances towards Alison to see her reaction and must see some of her anger written all over her face because she hastily turns back to Hanna and tries to brush off her comment. "But you have Caleb."

"We're not technically back together," the blonde points out, and Alison wants to strangle her. "And really, I don't think he'd mind. You know, if I had to go gay you've always been my first choice 'cause you're hot but like now that I know you're good in bed?"

"Hanna - " Spencer tries to cut the blonde off, finally noticing the murderous looks that Alison's shooting her across the room, and the brunette looks nervously between the two of them, but Hanna just speaks right over her.

"Like, I would be so all over that. And I'm kind of your type, right? I mean, I look kind of like Alison and you were in love with her for like years so – "

"Hanna!" Spencer snaps, louder this time, and the blonde blinks at her like she'd forgotten that she was here, and Alison knows that it's the alcohol talking, that when drunk, Hanna always says exactly what's on her mind but that doesn't make her any less _annoyed_. "I think that's enough."

"Why?" Hanna glances around and looks as though she notices Alison for the first time. "Because Alison doesn't like what I'm saying?"

"It's her birthday," Aria reminds Hanna, gently, and the blonde sighs heavily, rolling her eyes.

"_Fine_, let's get on with the game, then. Alison, truth or dare?"

"Suddenly I don't feel like playing anymore." She forces the words out through gritted teeth, and she wishes that she wasn't so insecure but she _is_, she is about Emily, and she can't help it and she's angry at Hanna for making her feel that way, even though she knew the blonde didn't mean it and she just… suddenly isn't having such a great time, after all.

"Oh come on, don't be boring. Just cause you're jealous - "

"Hanna!" Spencer once again interrupts, her eyes still watching Alison warily, waiting for her to snap. "Can I talk to you for a minute? _Alone_?" When the blonde makes no move, Spencer sighs and climbs to her feet, grabbing Hanna's wrist and dragging her into the kitchen – Alison can hear the brunette speaking in a hushed voice but can't quite make out individual words as Aria excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving her and Emily alone.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Emily asks as soon as Aria's disappeared, cupping the side of the blonde's face with a gentle hand, titling her head so their eyes meet. "And don't say nothing because I know there's something."

"I'm fine."

"Alison," Emily huffs, a flash of annoyance in her eyes. "Is it what Hanna said? You know that she was just joking, and even if she _wasn't_, you're the only girl in this room that I'd wanna drag upstairs, okay?"

"I know, it's just… I'm just wondering why you _want _to. You're more experienced than me at… stuff, and I - "

"Have you ever heard me complaining?" Emily asks, and her voice huskier, and when Alison dares to meet her gaze the brunette's looking at her like… like she wants to _devour _her. "I want _you_, no-one else. But if it really bothers you…" She trails off, casts a glance around them to make sure they're still alone and darts forward to press a quick, but heated, kiss against her lips. "If it really bothers you then how about when the other three are asleep, you and me can go upstairs and we can make the number ten a distant memory?"


	15. Stay (With Me)

**Title: Stay (With Me)**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: Alternative ending to 4x24, where Emily takes the bullet instead of Ezra. Trigger warnings for blood, and a brief mention of self-harm. **

* * *

The gun points at her head, and she's frozen, unable to look away, unable to move, and she's avoided this for two years but it looks like her time has run out, and her biggest regret is that her friends are here, will have to see her die, _Emily_ will have to see her die, and she should never have brought them to this place.

And then Ezra is in the way, battling with the hooded figure, and Alison's heart is in her mouth because he can't die because of her, Aria can't lose him because of her – and then Ezra is thrown to the side and the gun is raised once more and Alison can't move.

She can hear Emily shouting, can feel a hand wrapped around her wrist, trying to drag her away, but there's nowhere to go, they're on a rooftop with no means of escape, and maybe if A gets what they want, if they kill her, then maybe the rest of them will be fine.

The gun goes off and the noise is loud, and Alison's eyes close and she waits, she waits for the end, the end of this lie of a life she's been living for too long, and maybe it'll be a relief, to finally have to stop running.

Except the impact never comes – instead a force slams into her side and she hits the rooftop hard, her left shoulder crashing into the ground and she grunts in pain, and there's the sound of screaming and she doesn't know _why_.

She shoves herself into a sitting position and sees Emily, Emily who must have shoved her out of the way, and her mouth opens to tell her she's an idiot, to ask her what she'd been _thinking_, and it's only then that she sees the red stain rapidly spreading through the material of her white shirt and the words die in her throat because no, no, no, no, no, _no_, Emily can't leave her, Emily can't sacrifice herself for her.

Emily can't die because of her.

The brunette's eyes are open, and her hand reaches for Alison and the blonde is by her side in an instant, panic spreading through her body like a fire, and she wrenches her jacket off of her shoulder and presses it with shaking hands to the wound on Emily's stomach, and she can feel tears pouring from her eyes but she doesn't know how to stop them.

"I…I…" Emily tries to talk, her hand resting weakly on Alison's arm, and the blonde can see how pale her face is, drained of all colour and her heart is racing in her chest, because she can't lose Emily, she _can't_, not like this.

"Shh," she murmurs desperately, lifting one hand from the brunette's stomach to gently brush strands of hair from out of her eyes, and the clammy and cool feeling of Emily's skin makes her want to throw up. "Don't talk. You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

She thinks that maybe if she repeats it like a mantra then maybe it'll turn out to be true, and she realizes that she's tuned out of what's going around them – she raises her head just in time to see A leap over the side of the building and disappear, and no-one's realized what's happening and she wants to scream at them to help but she can't speak, her throat feels like it's closed up.

It's Spencer who notices first, her face going pale before she's racing over to where Emily lies, and the others are following and Alison is screaming at them to do something because she can feel Emily slipping out from between her fingers and she only just got her _back_.

Ezra is the only one with a phone, and Alison distantly hears him calling 911 as she turns back to Emily, and her fingers tremble as they trace over the brunette's cheek, her other hand still applying pressure to where she'd been hit, and she sees Emily's eyes start to flutter shut and is seized by absolute terror.

"Don't you dare close your eyes, Emily," she practically begs, her voice cracking. "You have to hold on, okay? You have to hold on for me."

"It hurts," Emily whispers, and Alison only cries harder at the sound of her voice, because she sounds so broken and this is _all her fault_.

"I know, babe, I know, but you have to… Look at me. Emily, _look_ at me." The brunette's eyes flicker open to meet hers and Alison's heart clenches in her chest because she doesn't… she doesn't _look _good, she looks like she's _dying_ and she can't… she can't see that happen. She _won't_. "I love you," she says, and her voice is rough and it's something that she's never dared to say out loud before because that makes it real in a way that she'd never been ready for, but she needs Emily to hear it, she needs Emily to know that she _meant _something to her.

That she means _everything_ to her.

"I love you," she says again, and she watches as Emily's eyes try to focus on her but she can barely see the brunette through her tears and she blinks them hastily away because she needs to see her _face_, she needs to see _her_. "I love you and I always loved you I just couldn't… I didn't know how to deal with that so I pushed you away and I pretended that it meant nothing and I hate that I did that, I hate myself for hurting you, and I don't deserve someone like you, I never did but I love you. And I need you to hold on, Emily Fields, because I can't live in a world that doesn't have you in it."

Emily's lips move, mumbling something that Alison can't hear, and Emily tugs on her arm to drag her down closer. "I love you too." Even her voice sounds weak, and Alison is beside herself, and where the _hell _is the ambulance Ezra's supposed to have called?

"Ali," Spencer murmurs from her left, and her voice is strained, and Alison tears her gaze away from Emily's face to glance at the brunette. "I've got this." She glances down and Alison sees that Spencer's hands have joined hers on her jacket to try and stop the bleeding. "You just try to keep her awake."

She nods, feeling numb, wiping the blood off of her hand on her pant leg before cupping Emily's face in both hands. "Look at me," she pleads again, because Emily's eyes have started to flutter again, but this time they don't open at the sound of her voice and a sob tears from her throat as the sound of sirens pierces the air, because she can't lose her when help is so close. "Emily."

The brunette's hand falls from her arm, limp, and panic seizes Alison's heart, she feels like there's a hand around it, squeezing until she can't breathe, and it's a last-ditch attempt to keep Emily awake that she leans down and presses their lips together, and she can taste the salt of her tears and Emily's lips are cold and she presses their foreheads together and she wants to scream, wants to scream at her that she can't leave her, she can't, she's everything that Alison's ever wanted and she's finally told her and she can't be ripped away, A can't do this to her – they've taken everything else, they can't have Emily's life, too.

She has to be pulled away from Emily when the paramedics get there, Spencer and Hanna's arms wrapped tightly around her as they set to work and Alison can only stand and watch, paralyzed with fear, tears still running down her face, and she's a mess.

"One of you can come with us," one of the paramedic's say as Emily's lifted onto a stretcher, and Alison's eyes are fixed on the brunette's chest, watching it rise and fall as she breathes, and praying that she doesn't see it stop. "But only one, and you're going to have to decide quickly."

Alison expects there to be a fight – Aria, Spencer and Hanna have been there for Emily more times than she ever has, the four of them are closer now than ever before – but Spencer practically shoves Alison down the stairway after the stretcher that carries Emily, with a whisper in her ear that they'll meet her at the hospital soon.

It's all a blur after that – she's urged into the ambulance and one of the guys tells her to hold Emily's hand and talk to her and try to keep her awake, and she does, but later she won't remember what she spoke about, and she's never been so scared in her life and she just keeps watching Emily's chest, checking that she's still breathing.

Checking that she's not going to leave her.

When they get to the hospital Emily is rushed away in a flurry of activity, and Alison can only stand and watch her go, not allowed to go any further – when a nurse approaches her and asks if she's okay she breaks down and collapses, and when she wakes up she's on a hospital bed and disorientated, a kindly nurse waiting by the side of the bed.

"I don't… what happened?"

"You fainted, sweetheart. And it's understandable, after what happened to your friend – is there anyone I can call for you?"

"I… my friends are supposed to be coming here. I said I'd be in the waiting room." She tries to climb to her feet but nearly falls, and the nurse grabs a hold of her arm gently and steers her back to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I think you should stay here for at least a little while longer." She presses a glass of water into Alison's hands, and as she raises it to her lips she sees the blonde that stains her fingers, Emily's blood, and she wants to be sick.

"My friend, is she… How is she?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I don't know. She was rushed into surgery, but that's all I know." Alison nods, and the room sort of feels like it's spinning, but she needs to get out of that room – she needs to find the others, she needs to be with them, and this time when she stands she doesn't fall, just sways uneasily for a moment before forcing herself forward. "I really don't think - "

"I'm fine," she insists, even as her voice shakes, but she makes it to the door without incident, and the nurse sighs before walking her down to the waiting room – the other three and Ezra are already there, and they race towards her. Alison lets the nurse do all the talking, is too exhausted to explain; she just collapses into one of the chairs and buries her head in her hands, and the whole time there's a voice in her head screaming that this is her fault, all her fault, and that, if Emily dies, she'll have no-one to blame for it but herself.

"You should wash your hands, Ali," Spencer says gently, and Alison wonders what the brunette's thinking after hearing Alison's confession to Emily. Wonders if she's judging her for the way she'd treated Emily in the past, wonders if she judges her as harshly as Alison judges herself. "Come on."

Spencer drags her to the bathroom, and when Alison raises her eyes to the mirror she sucks in a harsh breath because she looks… she looks dead inside, and she can see from the look on Spencer's face that she's worried, worried about _her_, and that's perhaps the most concerning thing of all.

The water runs red as she washes her hands clean, and even when she's scrubbed them so much that they're raw it doesn't feel like enough, and she swears she can still see the stain of Emily's blood marring her skin.

Spencer hands her a tissue and she makes an attempt to wipe off the make-up that's run down her face, but even with that gone she still looks a mess, her eyes red and puffy and bloodshot, but she doesn't know how to fix that – she doesn't know how to fix _herself_.

She stares at herself in the mirror and she hates what she sees, she hates that she's been so weak – she should have stayed away from the girls, should have tried harder to keep them safe, should have never allowed herself the luxury of seeing them again, because they were better off thinking that she was dead.

She hates herself and it should be her lying in that operating theatre, it shouldn't be Emily – sweet, innocent Emily – it should be _her_ and because she was weak and she cracked Emily could die and it would be all her fault and she hates her reflection, can't stand to see herself anymore, so she draws her hand back and punches it forward, and the pain that she feels when the glass splinters and cracks beneath her fist feels like release.

"Alison!" Spencer hisses, and she's grabbing the blonde's arm before she can pull it back again, and glass reigns down on the countertop and Alison can't help but think that it's reminiscent of the way her heart had shattered in her chest when she'd seen the blood stain on Emily's shirt. "What are you _doing_?"

"I deserve it," she says as Spencer examines her hand with a frown on her face, and her voice sounds hollow (_she's _hollow). "I deserve a lot more than this, too."

"What happened to Emily isn't your fault." Spencer murmurs gently, stretching out Alison's fingers – she hisses in pain at the feeling and is pretty sure she's broken something – before running her hand under a stream of cold water.

"Of course it's my fault. You wouldn't be out here if not for me. A would have found me alone."

"And you'd be dead."

"Wouldn't that be better for everyone?"

"Hey, look at me." Spencer grips her chin in one hand, the other still cradling her injured one, and there's a stern expression on her face. "Don't talk like that, okay? Emily wouldn't want that. She's going to be fine, she's strong, and she's going to pull through this, and she's going to want you to be there on the other side of it all, okay?"

"But what if she doesn't?" She asks in a broken whisper, and she sees the flash of horror cross of Spencer's face as she contemplates the thought before the brunette is shaking her head.

"We don't have to think like that because she is going to be _fine_." Alison wonders if Spencer's trying to convince herself or Alison of that more, but she nods anyway and allows the brunette to carry on cleaning her hand before wrapping it up and muttering about it probably needing stitches, but the blonde's not really listening.

The nurse from before is still hovering around, clearly concerned about the four of them (and probably wondering why the obviously-older Ezra is standing with them), and sees the bloodstained tissue wrapped around her fist almost immediately and drags her away with a tut.

Alison doesn't say a word as she stitches it up, just focuses on the pain because it's easier to let that consume her than the thought of Emily, and when she's done the blonde returns to the waiting room to be with her friends and curls up, and when Spencer throws an arm around her shoulder she doesn't flinch away like she probably would have done before – instead she leans into her, accepting the comfort because she can't help thinking that she doesn't really deserve it.

Their parents arrive before Emily gets out of surgery, and Alison realizes pretty quickly that whoever had called them hadn't explained why they were in New York, because they all do a double-take when they see her curled up against Spencer, but she doesn't have the energy to explain, hides her face in the brunette's shoulder and lets Aria and Ezra and Hanna do the talking, has no idea what they're saying but can't find it within herself to care when all she can think about is Emily – whenever she blinks she can see the brunette's body as she's wheeled away from her, and Alison can't stop wondering if that's going to be the last time she sees Emily alive.

When a surgeon approaches them Alison straightens in her seat, waits with bated breath – when he says that Emily is going to be fine, that the surgery has gone well, she starts crying all over again, and everyone's hugging but all she wants to do is _see _her, but the doctor's saying that only immediate family can see her for tonight, and Alison feels like she's going to throw up all over again because what if something happens in the night and she doesn't ever get to see her again?

It's Spencer who once again comes to her rescue, slinking over to Mrs Fields and murmuring something into her ear – when the older woman looks towards Alison there's an odd expression on her face but she nods, turns to the doctor and speaks in a voice too quiet for Alison to hear.

"Alison?" When Mrs Fields speaks Alison's head snaps up, and the brunette is smiling softly at her. "Would you like to come with me to see her?"

"I…"

"Go, you idiot," Hanna mutters from her side when she hears Alison's hesitation, putting a hand on the small of her back and practically shoving her out of the chair, and she stumbles over to where Pam stands, allows the woman to take her uninjured hand as the doctor turns and they follow him, and she listens to him explain about how there would be a lot of tubes and machines but that they shouldn't worry, and that Emily would be asleep and wouldn't wake up for a while but that that was okay.

When he pauses outside of a door Alison stops breathing, and he waves them through and it's only because Pam practically drags her into the room that she's able to move forward, because the sight of Emily lying in that bed brings tears to eyes, because she looks so small, so fragile, and it should be _her_.

Pam drops her hand and rushes over the Emily's side, pulling over a chair to the side of the bed and perching on the very edge of it, her hands fluttering nervously over Emily's body but not touching her (too _scared_ to touch her, Alison realizes), and the blonde can only stand and watch.

"Is she your girlfriend?" The doctor asks gently, and Alison jumps, having forgotten he was there, and he's looking at her with sympathy in his eyes and she wonders when she'd started to show her emotions on her face when she'd spent so many years learning how to hide them.

"She's… no." Emily is so much more than that – the love of her life, her _first _love, her whole world, her _everything_, but not her girlfriend, never her girlfriend, because Alison was too scared and too cowardly to tell her how she felt.

"Oh," he says, clearly surprised. "I just thought… you look like you care about her. A lot."

"I love her," she says softly, and she's said those three words more today than she ever has in her life but it doesn't feel as scary anymore. She watches Pam glance away from Emily's face too look back at her and thinks that maybe she shouldn't have said that out loud in-front of Emily's mother but she supposes it's too late to take it back now.

"Well, she's going to be fine. And she's not going to break if you go over there and hold her hand." Alison bites her lip before deciding that he's right and making her way nervously over to the opposite side of the bed that Pam is on, and she can hear the beeping of the machines that surround Emily and this close she can see how pale her skin is, her eyelids fluttering as she sleeps. "I'll leave you three in here for a little while, but you can't stay all night, I'm afraid."

"Thank you," Pam murmurs and the door clicks quietly behind him as he leaves, and then Alison's left alone, feeling like she's intruding on a family moment that she's not a part of, feels like she shouldn't be in here even though she doesn't ever want to leave.

She takes Emily's hand gently in-between her own, ignoring the flash of pain it sends through her body, and just brushes her fingers gently over her skin, makes sure that she can feel the pulse in Emily's wrist pressing against her palm, and her eyes are glued to Emily's face because she needs to… just in-case, she needs to commit to memory, make sure she has all the details, like the curve of her cheekbone and the outline of her jaw, the exact shade of her hair and the fullness of her lips.

She's still standing there holding Emily's hands when the doctor comes back and tells them gently that they need to leave, let Emily get her rest – it's Pam who's the first to move, pressing a gentle kiss to Emily's forehead before heading for the door, but Alison can't move, can't bear to leave Emily's side because what _if_?

"Alison?" Pam calls, her voice gentle, and Alison feels more tears gather behind her eyes, thinks that she's never cried so much in her life as she has today, and she breathes out a gentle sigh and shakes her head to clear them.

"You're not allowed to leave me," she says softly, because she needs to say _something_, even if Emily can't hear her. "You can't leave me Emily; I couldn't bear it, because I need you. And I know I never told you that but I do, I always _did_, and I… You just can't leave me."

She leans down and presses her lips to Emily's for one brief second, because she needs to, she can't leave without it, and she doesn't care that Emily's Mom is standing just a few feet away, she doesn't care about anything other than Emily, other than memorizing the feeling of her lips underneath her own, and she vows that this won't be the last time that she feels it.


	16. Alone Together

**Title: Alone Together**

**Rating: K+**

**Prompt: Emison go horseback riding.**

* * *

"I really don't think this is a good idea, Ali," Emily says worrying at her bottom lip as she pulls into a parking space at the riding school, and she's already regretting letting Alison talk her into coming out here and she hasn't even gotten out of the _car _yet.

"It's an _excellent _idea," Alison replies, smiling reassuringly at Emily from the passenger seat, but it does nothing to assuage the worry gnawing at Emily's gut. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"When I said that you could decide our next date, I didn't think it'd involve… this." Emily casts a glance out of her window, sees a handful of horses dotted around the fields and wants to throw up. "Can we please do something else?"

"You don't need to be scared, Em," Alison says gently, taking one of Emily's hands in her own and playing with her fingers lightly.

"Yes I do," she replies immediately, because how can she _not _be scared of an animal that's bigger and wider and a dozen times stronger than her? How can she be told that it's _safe _to sit on its back? "Because horses are terrifying."

"They're not." Emily just nods emphatically, and Alison sighs, drawing absent patterns across the back of Emily's hand. "You're not… It's not because of what happened last time, is it?" Emily pales at the memory, the one and only time she'd been around horses before Spencer had dragged her out to that farm in the middle of nowhere a few weeks ago (and she'd nearly been trampled to death). "That was… an anomaly."

"You could've _died_."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Alison says with a huff and a roll of her eyes, but Emily can still remember the panic clawing its way up her throat when she'd seen Alison fall from the horse and smash into the ground, can still hear the sound of her body impacting with the earth. "I was fine."

"You were hurt."

"But I was fine." Their eyes lock, and Alison's gaze turns pleading. "Please, Em, I've always wanted this, to share this with someone. _Please_." Emily thinks that, were Hanna here, she'd whisper 'whipped' under her breath and Emily would roll her eyes but secretly agree, because she finds herself nodding even though she doesn't _want _to, even though what she really wants to do is turn the car around and drive back home, but it's almost worth her fear when she sees the beautiful smile that spreads across Alison's face.

Almost.

"You'll have fun, I promise." Emily's sure that she won't, but she follows Alison out of the car anyway, allowing the blonde to take her hand and drag her towards the office, letting Alison do all the talking while she jumps at every little noise.

"Is she okay?" The receptionist asks eventually, eyeing Emily with concern when a horse whinnies on the yard and the brunette nearly has a heart attack.

"She's fine," Alison assures the woman, who doesn't look convinced, but she takes their money and ushers them through the door and onto the yard anyway, and a different woman leads them towards one of the stables.

Emily glances inside nervously as Alison speaks, and the horse within is chomping on a pile of hay, but watches Emily with wise brown eyes. It's big, the brunette can tell that even from outside, and it has a smooth black coat, a white patch on its head.

"You okay to get him ready yourselves?" Emily tunes back into Alison's conversation in time to hear her reassure the woman that they'll be fine, and she directs them to where the tack is kept and Emily is content to just stand back as Alison gets to work, disappearing and re-appearing with a bridle while Emily just keeps peering at the animal in the stable and wondering why the hell she'd agreed to this idea.

"You look like you're going to pass out," Alison says with a smirk as she unlocks the horses stable and waltzes inside, and Emily watches as she stretches a hand towards the animal to sniff before patting its neck.

"I feel like I'm going to." She watches Alison slip the reins over the horses head before pulling on the bridle, moving with sure movements while Emily just watches in awe. "How long has it been since you've done this?"

"A while," Alison shrugs as she does up all the buckles, and then she's leading the horse out of the stable and Emily flattens herself against the wall as the animal passes and Alison rolls her eyes. "You know they can sense fear."

"Which is why I'm staying far away."

"Come here," Alison says, reaching out the hand that isn't clutching the reins and dragging a reluctantly Emily over. She has to pry Emily's hand from her side, where it's in a fist, to thrust it in-front of the horse's nose, and warm breath tickles her palm and Emily's heart is in her mouth. "This is Magic," Alison murmurs, and Emily reaches her other, shaking hand, to stroke along Magic's neck. "See? Not so scary, is it."

"Pretty scary," Emily squeaks as the horse heaves out a huge sigh, and she quickly snatches her hand back, and Alison laughs. "Don't," she pouts at the blonde, and Alison tries to hide her smile instead but just fails miserably. "You're mean."

"You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to date me, babe," Alison replies easily, but she darts forward to press her lips against Emily's for a brief second. "Come on, we need to find you a hat that fits."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Emily says hastily, "I didn't agree to get on board. I thought _you _were."

"We both are," Alison says simply, leading the horse over to a nearby wall that houses several dozen hats. "Here, try this one."

"But I don't know what I'm _doing_!"

"You put it on your head and do up the buckle." Emily glares at her girlfriends joke. "Kidding. I'm going to be right there with you, okay? Don't you think it's romantic? A horseback ride through the forest?"

"Romantic? No. Terrifying? Yes." Alison rolls her eyes, a hat already on her head, and Emily sighs, knowing that she's gone too far to back out of this now – and besides, she could never really bring herself to disappoint Alison. "Is it even safe to have two people on a horse?"

"Perfectly safe." Emily finds a hat that fits, and Alison taps the side of it gently. "You look adorable."

"And I feel ridiculous." Alison leads the horse away and over to a block on the floor, and nods for Emily to stand on it. "Doesn't it need something on its back for me to sit on?"

"Usually, but two people aren't going to fit on one saddle easily, now come on, just put one hand here," the blonde indicates a spot inbetween the horses shoulders. "And swing your leg over."

"Like it's easy," Emily mutters back as she climbs on the block and looks with trepidation at the height she still has to lift her leg by.

"You're an athlete, Em," Alison says with a hint of exasperation, and Emily takes a deep breath before resting her hand on the horse's back and using it to hold her weight as she swings a leg over his back, and she's actually kind of amazed that she doesn't just tip right over the other side. "See? Wasn't so hard, was it?"

She's still kind of terrified, because she's awfully far off the ground, but the horse is a steady and solid weight beneath her, and maybe this won't be so bad after all. Alison is behind her a moment later, her front pressing against Emily's back as she reaches around the brunette to take the reins.

"Tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?" Alison asks, her voice in Emily's ear, and the brunette nods, a little of her nervousness coming back – she nearly stops breathing when the horse moves beneath them, the rocking movement foreign, and it's only the feeling of Alison wrapped around her, making sure that she doesn't fall, that keeps her calm.

"How did you even get them to agree to this?" Emily asks as the blonde leads them away from the stables and along one of the trails that spider out from the central part where the horses are kept. "I didn't even know you could _have _two people on one horse."

"Have you never seen a movie?" Alison asks with a soft chuckle, resting her chin on Emily's shoulder. "And I can be very persuasive when I need to be. You know that."

"Well yeah, because there's no way I'd be up here if you weren't." It's actually kind of nice, now that some of her fear is lessened – the movement of Magic beneath her is still a little weird, and she feels off-balance pretty much every other step, but she doesn't think she's going to fall, and walking through the woods is kind of cool, the trees pressing on either side of the track and shutting out the outside world.

"Want a lesson?" Alison murmurs a little while later, and Emily tentatively nods, and Alison pulls Magic gently to a stop. "Okay, take the reins from me."

"But I don't…"

"Don't worry," Alison assures her as she cups her hands around the back of Emily's, shows her the right way to hold them. "He's probably done this trail a thousand times; he knows where he's going."

Emily threads the reins through her fingers, and Alison's breath is hot in her ear. "Don't hold them too tightly," she says softly, "but you should still be able to feel the contact with his mouth." Emily nods, and Alison urges the horse on gently with her legs, her hands resting lightly on Emily's waist, ready to take over if she needed to.

"You need to keep your back straight." A hand lands on Emily's stomach and her breath catches in her throat the same way it does whenever Alison touches her, and she can feel the heat from the blonde's fingertips even through her shirt. "And look straight ahead, don't keep looking down."

She isn't sure how she feels, to know that she's in control of an animal several times bigger than her, and she can't quite bring herself to relax completely. Alison keeps up a stream of idle chatter in her ear, and it's nice, to spend time alone with her like this, where she's so carefree and relaxed and Emily finds herself glad that she'd agreed to this, because it's worth it to see Alison so happy.

"This is actually kind of fun," she admits to Alison when she knows that they're nearing the stable block, their circuit of the woods complete, and she hears Alison's mock gasp beside her ear and makes a face that she knows the blonde can't see.

"Emily Fields, admitting that she was wrong? Never."

"Hey, I admit it all the time," she retorts with a scoff, "it's _you _that doesn't. God forbid Alison DiLaurentis admit that she made a mistake." When they pass through the line of trees and Magic starts to automatically head back towards his home, Emily's surprised to feel a tinge of disappointment in her gut. The horse stops outside of the stable they'd gotten him from, and Emily releases her hold on the reins with Alison's urging, and when she next looks down the blonde's there, patting the horse's neck fondly. "Um, how do I get off?"

"I know from experience that you know perfectly well how to that," Alison says with a wicked smirk, and Emily frowns, confused, before she realizes the double-meaning behind her words and flushes.

"Not like _that_," she replies, appalled, but Alison just bites her lip to hide her smile. "Seriously, help me or I'm going to be stuck up here forever."

"Alright, alright. Lean forward a little and swing your right leg back over his back and just sort of… slide down 'til you hit the floor."

"That is not a helpful explanation."

"Well, it's the only one I got." Emily doesn't move, suddenly scared once more because getting _on _the horse had seemed _easy _but getting down does _not_. "Em, come on. I'll catch you if you fall, I promise."

She _does _nearly fall, forgetting how high up she was – when she hits the floor she's surprised by the impact and stumbles, but Alison's there, a hand on her lower back steadying her, and her legs sort of feel like jelly now that she's back on solid ground.

"So, are we coming back next week?" Alison teases as she takes Magic back into his stable and takes the bridle off, and Emily just shakes her head because sure, she'd had fun but not _that _much fun, and if this becomes a regular occurrence it might just lead to her premature death.

"Um, _no_," she says and Alison laughs, producing a packet of mints from her pocket and holding one under Magic's nose for him to eat. "And next time we go on a date, _I _am choosing where we go."


	17. I Want You

**Title: I Want You**

**Rating: M**

**Prompt: ****They are dating for a couple of weeks now and both of them want to go a step further in their relationship (because I don't think they had sex in the 100th episode). What Emily doesn't know is.. Alison is still a virgin. How will she react when Alison confesses? (Emison's cute and romantic first time.)**

* * *

"We should stop," Emily murmurs with regret, her breathing laboured and her head hazy, and she feels drunk on the feeling of Alison's mouth against hers, on her _skin_, and her hands, god, her hands are everywhere, dancing across her stomach and creeping under the edge of her bra, and she can barely even _think _straight but she knows that they agreed to take things slow and she's _trying _to be the bigger person but god, it's hard when Alison's staring down at her like that with hooded eyes and flushed skin, her lips bruised from the hard press of Emily's against them, and her hair mussed from the brunette's hands.

"We _should_," Alison agrees, but even as she speaks she rolls her hips, her thigh rocking against Emily's sex through her jeans and oh god, she's going to pass out. "But that doesn't mean we _have _to."

"You said you wanted to take this slow," Emily breathes, her eyes closed and her hands splayed on Alison's back, and all she can hear is the pounding of her heart in her ears and all she's aware of is the press of Alison's skin against her own (their shirts having been thrown to the floor early in the evening), and she's just… it's heaven.

"It's very hard to remember why I wanted that right now," Alison replies, a finger dragging down Emily's sternum and along the outline of her bra, and when she follows her fingers path with her mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the brunette's skin Emily stops breathing, her back arching off the bed.

"We should stop," Emily repeats, and Alison heaves out a sigh but rolls off of her and onto her side, and Emily regrets it, immediately missing the heat of Alison's body against her own, but she knows she won't regret it as much as she will if she inadvertently pushes Alison into something that she's not ready for.

"I think…" Alison trails off, sitting up on the bed and looking down at Emily, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. "I think I might be… um, ready. You know, for…"

"Sex?" Emily supplies helpfully, grinning when Alison blushes slightly because never in a million years would she have guessed that _Alison _would be shy about the topic, and Emily the more forward of the two, but… here they are.

Her heart starts to beat a little faster in her chest when Alison nods, a little shyly, because god, she can barely even believe that she gets to call Alison her girlfriend, but to actually _be _with her like that is… even the thought of it gets her hot.

"But I… there's something I need to tell you." Emily's immediately alert, sitting up on the bed and giving the blonde her full attention. "I… I've never…"

"Been with a girl before?" Emily says with a slight smile, because she knows _that_, but Alison just shakes her head.

"I've never been with _anyone _before." Emily just sort of blinks at her, because she'd assumed… Alison had had so many boyfriends, so many boys hanging all over her and Emily (and the others), had all thought that Alison had been the first to lose her virginity but just didn't talk about it with them.

"Oh," is all she can say, because she's surprised, and she knows she's said the wrong thing when she sees Alison's face cloud over, the blonde starting to turn away. "Hey, no, wait," she grabs the blonde's shoulder, spins her back around and scrambles forward so that she's kneeling in-front of her. "I'm sorry, that probably wasn't the best reaction, I was just…"

"I know I didn't act like it," Alison murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself. "But I… I didn't care about any of those guys; the thought of their hands on me was… I only ever wanted that with you."

"And you _can _have that with me," Emily promises, her hands sliding up to cup Alison's jaw, and she presses their lips together sweetly.

"It doesn't… It doesn't bother you?" Alison asks when their lips part, glancing up at Emily and the brunette sees vulnerability in her blue eyes and her heart clenches because had she actually been _scared _to tell her this?

"Of course it doesn't, silly," she murmurs back, thumbs brushing across the blonde's cheeks. "It's actually… it's kind of hot. To know that I'll be the first one to touch you like that." Her voice turns husky at just the thought, and Alison's eyes are dark, and she pulls her hands away from the blonde's skin. "But not tonight," she says, because she needs Alison to really be sure, to really think this through, and the blonde nods and Emily smiles and presses a gentle kiss to Alison's forehead before pulling her shirt back on and heading home for the night.

x-x-x

_My Dad just called me – he has to go on a last-minute trip tonight and won't be back until Sunday. I have the house to myself all weekend… And I want to spend it with you. I _want _you. _

She receives the text when she's at Spencer's with the brunette and Hanna, and she sort of stares dumbstruck at her phone for several long seconds, her mouth going dry and her mind racing, because they'd talked about it a couple more times, have come _close _more than once over the last week, but they've always stopped, it's never been the right time, one parent always around or a phonecall or a text interrupting, but now…

Now there's nothing that can stop her from sleeping with her amazing girlfriend tonight and the thought is equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

"Hello?" Hanna's hand waves in-front of Emily's face. "Earth to Em. That isn't an A text, is it?" The blonde shifts to try and read the text over the brunette's shoulder and Emily quickly clicks off the message.

"No, it's nothing. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just saying, I was supposed to be going out with Toby tonight but he's sick so you guys can all come over later if you want. We can watch movies, have a sleepover, the five of us, like the ones we used to have."

"I…" Spencer must see the panic in Emily's eyes because she raises an eyebrow.

"Unless you already have plans?"

"I do, with Ali."

"She _is _invited to," Spencer says, and Hanna snorts out a laugh and there's a smirk on her face. "What?" Spencer asks the blonde.

"I don't think we want to be any part of their plans, Spence," she says, still smirking, and Emily flushes. "I don't need to be scarred for life by the two of them not being able to keep it in their pants while the rest of us are lying two foot away."

"Oh," Spencer says, her eyes widening slightly in realization. "_Oh_. I thought you guys were waiting?" Emily just kind of wants to die a little bit because she's mortified to be having this conversation, and Hanna's just laughing at her.

"Can we please not talk about this?" Emily practically begs, because she does _not _want to discuss her sex life with anyone, she never _has_, she thinks that some things should remain private and they both _know _that.

"Fine," Hanna says with a roll of her eyes. "Be boring. If we're not talking about _your _relationship then can we please talk about mine? Because I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with Caleb and I could use some help with that."

x-x-x

She takes a deep breath before she pushes open the front door of Alison's house (she'd gotten a text that simply said _I'll leave the door unlocked, come straight upstairs_), and she does just that, her heart in her mouth the whole time and she shouldn't be _nervous _but she is, she's nervous and jittery, has been since that afternoon (she'd eventually been kicked out of Spencer's house because she was 'making Hanna nervous' and had been a wreck as she'd waited for Alison to tell her that the coast was clear and her Dad had left).

"Ali?" She calls as she reaches the landing, not wanting to start of their night by terrifying the blonde by sneaking up on her. "It's me, I'm com - " Alison's left her bedroom door open and the words die in Emily's throat because Jesus _fucking _Christ she's sat on the end of her bed wearing nothing but matching black lace underwear and that's _it_ and Emily's died and gone to heaven.

"Come here," the blonde murmurs, and Emily's in-front of her in a second, stepping between the blonde's legs and leaning down to kiss her, hard, her hands curling around the side of Alison's jaw as the blonde reaches for her waist, and Emily wants to touch every inch of Alison's body, wants her lips to know every part of her, but she forces herself to wait, to take this slow because if this is Alison's first time then she's damn well going to make sure that the blonde remembers it.

They kiss for a long time, Alison urging Emily onto the bed so that she's straddling the blonde's hips, and Alison's hands are everywhere, curling around the back of her neck, slipping under the hem of her shirt and splaying across the small of Emily's back, tracing across her ribs, moving down to grab her ass.

"Off," Alison says when their lips eventually part, her hands tugging at Emily's shirt, and as soon as it's over the brunette's head Alison's mouth is on her skin, kissing down her neck – she sucks on her pulse point hard enough to leave a mark and Emily groans at the feeling, her hands tangling in Alison's hair and holding her close.

Desire pools in her stomach and between her legs as Alison's lips trail lower, and when she turns them and presses Emily back down on the bed the brunette is both surprised and impressed, and then she's unable to think much of anything because Alison's mouth teases one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, her teeth biting gently.

She arches her back off the bed when the blonde's hands slide beneath her to undo the clasp, and the blonde pulls it off her eagerly, admiring the newly exposed skin for a couple of seconds before leaning back down and taking Emily's other nipple into her mouth, and the brunette can't stop the loud moan that escapes her lips with Alison's tongue flicks across the tip, her hands tightening in the blonde's hair.

She drags Alison's mouth back up to hers and kisses her hard, her hands sliding down to unclasp her bra before moving to cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples lightly and she loves the moans Alison breathes into her mouth.

A thigh slips between her legs and she grinds against it because the ache she feels only gets more and more intense with every noise that Alison makes against her lips, and Alison rocks her against her and she can feel how wet the blonde is even through the material of her jeans and it's the hottest thing in the world – she rolls them over easily, grabbing Alison's hands in one of her own and pinning them above her head when the blonde tries to reserve their positions, because she wants to put Alison first, tonight, she _needs _to, needs to show her how much she loves her because words will never, ever be enough.

She moves her mouth down over the blonde's jaw and down the side of her neck, pausing at the places she knows from experience never fail to make her squirm or moan, brushing her lips over her collarbones and down her sternum – by the time she reaches her breasts Alison's breathing is laboured, and when Emily glances up it's to see her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed, and when she releases her hands the immediately bury in her hair.

"Stop being a tease," Alison murmurs with a pout when Emily doesn't move, her breath ghosting across creamy skin.

"What if I want to take my time?" Emily murmurs, brushing a gentle kiss the side of one of Alison's breasts.

"There'll be time for that later," the blonde breathes back, and there's a need in her voice as well in the way her hips shift beneath Emily's impatiently, and the way her hands clutch at her. "Em, please, I need you."

Just the words alone make her mouth dry, her heart race, and she decides that Alison's right- she can explore every inch of the blonde's body later, can learn the places where she likes to be kissed and those that she hates after she's touched her for the first time, and she trails her kisses lower, feels the muscles of Alison's stomach quiver beneath her lips and curls her fingers around the edges of the blonde's underwear.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asks before she pulls them down, because she needs to make absolutely _sure_, needs to know that Alison's not going to regret this in the morning, and the blonde's head lifts from the pillow to glare down at her.

"Seriously?" She groans, exasperated. "Emily, if you don't get both of us naked and touch me right _now_, then I'm going to _kill you_."

"How romantic," she teases, grinning at the expression on Alison's face, and then she dips her head and presses her a kiss against Alison's sex through her underwear and smirks when the blonde's head drops back down onto the bed with a moan, her hips lifting up to press against Emily's mouth.

"God, do that again." Alison's voice is breathy, and Emily laughs softly as she lifts her head to drag the blonde's underwear down her legs.

"Oh, I plan to, babe, don't worry." She kneels at the foot of the bed, admired the sight of Alison's naked body splayed out before her, and she's definitely the luckiest woman in the whole entire world because Alison is perfect, and she's all _hers_.

"Take your pants off, too." Alison's eyes are dark when they open and meet Emily's, and the brunette shoves herself to her feet and shimmies out of her jeans, loving the way Alison watches her every move with hungry eyes.

When her pants and underwear are lying on the floor she drapes herself back over Alison and they both groan at the feeling of skin-on-skin as their lips meet again, and it's a messy kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as their hips rock against each other, and Emily is drunk on the feeling of Alison moving beneath her, of feeling smooth skin beneath her fingertips, and the noises that spill from the blonde's mouth are music to her ears.

"Emily," Alison pants against her ear when their lips part, and Emily can feel the frantic pounding of Alison's heart under her palm. "Please touch me."

She slides one hand between their bodies and groans when she finds Alison wet and wanting beneath her fingertips, and Alison's hip buck against her hand as her fingers find her clit, and Emily leans back to watch the expression on Alison's face, takes in her parted lips and fluttering eyelids, the flush on her cheeks and the way she bites down on her bottom lip when Emily's fingers travel lower, a single digit dipping inside of her before she presses in further, and Alison's back arches off the bed, her hips rocking against Emily's hand and a strangled noise escapes her lips, and Emily's transfixed by the sight of her, wants every moment of tonight to be branded into her memory.

"Are you okay?" She has to ask, needs the reassurance, needs to make sure that Alison's still okay with this, and the blonde can only nod so Emily starts to move, thrusting gently at first and then harder at Alison's encouragement, and all the while her eyes are on the blonde's face, and never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought that she'd have this, that she'd get to _see _this (she can barely believe it even now).

She wishes she could drag this moment out for a lifetime, but she doesn't have the heart to tease Alison any more than she already has, and when she feels her getting close so angles her hand so that her palm presses against the blonde's clit with every stroke, and it's only a few seconds later that she comes, her back arching and her hands fisting in the bedsheets, and Emily is transfixed by the sight of her because she's _beautiful_.

They exchange lazy kisses as Alison stops shaking and tries to calm her racing heart, her hands curling around the back of Emily's neck and holding her close, and the brunette can't stop smiling like a stupid idiot and she's high on love and there's no better feeling in the world than this.

"I love you," Alison murmurs when they break apart, her breathing laboured, and Emily's smile widens because she will _never _get tired of hearing that, and presses another kiss to the blonde's lips, more insistent this time, and she smirks when she feels Alison's hips shift restlessly against her thigh.

"I love you, too," Emily breathes back before trailing her mouth down the side of the blonde's neck, because there is one thing that she's still yet to do, one thing that she's been dreaming about for… well, a really, really long time, but more so since they'd actually gotten together.

"Is this okay?" She asks as she settles between the blonde's thighs, and Alison leans up on her elbows to look down at her with dark blue eyes, and Emily swears that she could come from just that look _alone_.

"God, _yes_." Emily smirks at the slight hint of desperation in the blonde's voice before pressing a gentle kiss to the scar on Alison's thigh (because she knows that Alison hates it, goes out of her way to hide it, but Emily thinks that each and every part of her is beautiful and doesn't hesitate to let her _know _that).

She pauses for just a second, taking the moment in – feeling Alison's legs quivering on either side of her head and beneath the palms of her hands – before dipping her head and running her tongue along the blonde's sex, groaning at the feeling of Alison beneath her.

Alison's reaction is immediate, Emily coaxing a loud moan from the blonde's throat when her tongue flicks across her clit, Alison's hips jumping off the bed as she collapses back against the mattress, her hands tangling in the brunette's hair and holding her close, and Emily's pretty sure that she could do this for the rest of her life.

She's content to take her time, tongue teasing first Alison's clit and then her entrance, and every inch in-between until the blonde's an incoherent mess above her, and it's only then that she focuses solely on her clit, sucking it into her mouth and flicking her tongue across it more quickly – Alison's thighs clamp around either side of her head and her hands tighten in the brunette's hair almost to the point of pain, but it's more than worth it to feel the blonde's hip jerking beneath her.

When Alison collapses back against the bed she kisses her way back up the blonde's body and is surprised when Alison presses their lips together, tasting herself on Emily's tongue, and then the brunette's being pushed onto her back and Alison's hovering above her, and she struggles to think of anything at all aside from the feeling of Alison's hands and mouth all over her body.

x-x-x

She wakes in the morning to the feeling of naked skin pressed against her own, and she smiles sleepily, shifting closer to Alison so that she's practically on-top of her – the blonde is lying on her front, facing away from Emily, and the brunette's got one leg thrown over Alison's and an arm slung across her back and this is the most perfect thing that she's ever woken up to.

The sunlight filtering in from the window illuminates Alison in a warm glow, and Emily can't resist propping her head up on the palm of one of her hands and trailing the other over the skin of the blonde's back – the bed sheets have ridden down so that they barely cover Alison's ass and she watches her fingers dance over muscle and bone and sinew, and watches the ripple that travels down Alison's back.

"Can I wake up to this every morning?" Alison's voice is raspy as she shifts so that she's facing Emily, her eyes still closed but a beatific smile on her face, and she moans softly when Emily's fingers trace lower, down over her ass and then back up again, and Alison's eyes flicker open.

"I'm sure that could be arranged." She ducks down to press a gentle kiss to the blonde's lips, pouting when Alison pulls away when she tries to deepen it.

"Morning breath is _not_ attractive."

"But everything about you is attractive." Alison just shakes her head, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied groan, and Emily appreciates the new view as the blonde rolls onto her back, letting her eyes rove over the blonde's chest, admiring the marks she's left on her skin.

"I need a shower." Alison's eyes meet Emily's, and the brunette bites her lip at the look in them. "Wanna join me?"

"I…" She _very _much wants that, but then she also kind of wants to embrace the domesticity of this moment and make Alison breakfast.

"I feel like I should be offended," Alison says as she climbs out of the bed, shooting Emily a playful smirk over her shoulder as she moves to stand by the door, and Emily's gaze rakes over her figure because god, she's _gorgeous _and she's all _hers_ and that's… amazing.

"Oh, I _want _to," Emily says, because all she can kind of think about is the thought of shoving Alison against the nearest surface and making her beg for it. "But I also want to be a good girlfriend and make you breakfast, too."

"You know what _else _would you make you a good girlfriend?" Emily shakes her head and Alison's smile is wicked. "Multiple orgasms."

"But you'll need to have your strength up for those," she replies with a laugh, and Alison tilts her head consideringly.

"Fine. But I'm getting you in that shower at some point over this weekend," the blonde promises, and Emily nods eagerly because _that _isn't something she can turn down more than once. "Do you know where everything is in the kitchen?"

"I'll figure it out," she shrugs, and Alison disappears with one final smile and Emily drags herself with regret out of the bed, pulling on a pair of underwear from the bag she'd brought with her and then stealing one of Alison's t-shirts and heading downstairs.

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that no-one in the DiLaurentis household is capable of cooking from the fact that most of the cupboards are bare, but she finds some eggs in the fridge and decides that an omelette will do and sets to work, moving easily around the blonde's kitchen.

She's nearly finished when she hears the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs, and when she turns Alison's walking through the door with her hair still damp, and Emily smiles when she realizes that the blonde's wearing Emily's shirt from the day before, loves seeing Alison in her clothes almost as much as she likes wearing the blonde's.

Emily turns back to the pan on the stove and Alison comes up behind her, wrapping her arms around the brunette's waist and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her neck before resting her forehead on her shoulder.

"I could get used to this," Alison murmurs against her skin, and Emily has to agree. Unbidden, a lifetime flashes before her eyes – a lifetime of Alison by her side, of waking up the blonde each and every morning, of cooking together, _living _together – and it's something that she'd never dared to think about before because it was too painful, to think about the things that she desperately wanted but knew that she couldn't have, but now?

Now that Alison's there with her, wearing her shirt with her arms wrapped around Emily's waist after what was probably the best night of Emily's life?

Now she dares to dream it, dares to think of a future with this woman that, since the very first moment she'd laid eyes on her, she's always loved, and who, in spite of it all, loves her back – she thinks of a future and she smiles.


	18. Say Something

**Title: Say Something**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: I wrote this after seeing the sneak peek that was released of Alison and Emily from 5x12. This is veeery angsty, as a warning.**

* * *

It hurts more than she ever thought it could, to know that Emily's given up on her.

She'd suspected, when she'd been invited over here, that it was part of a bigger ploy, after the way they'd left things, but a part of her still naïvely hoped that there was still a sliver of hope for them – but it's gone as soon as she reads the text on Emily's phone (and she knows she shouldn't have, but she'd needed to know if this was what she wanted it to be or something else entirely, and now she has her answer she's not sure she wanted it).

Everyone thinks she's a heartless bitch (apparently even Emily, too, and that is the hardest cross to bear, that leaves a scar on her heart that she's not sure will ever fully heal), but if she were then this betrayal wouldn't sting her so much, she wouldn't have had to lie about being out of town just because she couldn't force herself out of bed to face Emily at school after their fight, didn't know how to look her in the eye without breaking down, had needed some time to put the pieces of herself back together.

And a part of her knows that she deserves this. She's lied to Emily, to all of them, but they don't _understand _that sometimes the truth can hurt more than a lie. And she's not a good person, she never was, and Emily deserves so much more than her but she's too selfish to be able to let her go.

"You really think that I'm that… twisted?" She forces herself to speak though she feels like there's a hand closing around her throat, and Emily stands in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest with an accusatory stare, and she feels like she's breaking. "That I'd send -A texts to myself, that I'd have myself _attacked_, and that I could torture the rest of you like that?"

"You've never had a problem with torturing us in the past," Emily replies immediately, a bitter edge to her words, and Alison wonders when she did this – when she turned sweet, loving Emily into an angry shadow of her former self, and she hates herself for that most of all. "With torturing _me_. You did it for weeks, months. You _knew _how I felt and you used it to… god, to keep me close to you. You loved the way I looked at you and you only kissed me because you never wanted that to stop."

Emily's words feel like a knife to her heart but she doesn't let it show on her face – she's a master at hiding her emotions, at burying them beneath a façade of disinterest, and she's had years of practice but she needs all of it now just to keep herself together under the heat of Emily's angry gaze.

And she supposes that really, she's had this coming, should have prepared for this. Because she knows the wounds she'd left on Emily, both from before she'd disappeared and the act _itself_, had been deep, might have never healed, and she'd waltzed back into their lives like nothing had changed when in fact everything was different.

Emily wasn't the same meek fifteen year old who had glanced shyly at Alison whenever she thought the blonde wasn't looking, with love in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks, unsure of herself and her sexuality and what it all _meant_.

No, she's different, now (sometimes Alison feels like Emily's a different person entirely from the girl she once knew, but then she thinks how much she's changed in two years and thinks that maybe Emily thinks the same of her, too), isn't afraid to stand up for herself or speak what's on her mind, and as much as it hurts her, sometimes, Alison is glad, glad that she didn't ruin this woman beyond repair.

"Aren't you going to _say _anything?" Emily's hands are by her side now, curled into fists, and there's fury written over her face and Alison's never seen her like this, and she's devastatingly beautiful and it takes her breath away.

"What _is _there to say?" Her voice is cold and her expression carefully blank, and she's on familiar territory, now – she lashes out when she's hurt and she's more than hurting now, there's an ache in her chest and a fracture in her heart and a selfish part of her wants Emily to feel like this, too. "You seem to have drawn your own conclusions about me all on your own."

She thinks that the hardest blow is the fact that Emily thinks that she's lying about the fact that she _cares_, because she _does_, she cares for Emily Fields with a depth that terrifies her, overwhelms her, and sometimes she can't think straight because Emily invades her mind, she haunts her dreams (and her nightmares, too) - she's inescapable, and she thinks that Alison doesn't _care_.

She thinks that none of those kisses had meant a thing, when in fact it's all Alison is able to think about when she's alone at night, of the heat of Emily's mouth pressed against her own, the noises she makes in the back of her throat whenever Alison does something right – and her biggest regret is that she hadn't kissed her more _often_, that they hadn't spent longer beneath the covers of her bed the other night with Emily's mouth pressed against hers and the brunette's wandering fingers trailing across her skin.

"Like they're not true? Like I actually _mean _something to you?" Emily's voice cracks and Alison's heart shatters a little, too, because she looks so _broken_, and that's her fault, she's done this, she's torn Emily apart and make her turn her back on her, with her lies and her untrustworthiness and the fact that she can't force herself to be honest about how she feels, to admit that she's in love with her (and she is, she knows she is, she's known it ever since they day she'd left her behind and the irony has never been lost on her, that she didn't know what she'd had until she'd lost it, but she'd never really _had _it in the first place because she was too much of a _coward _and Emily will never know any of it because Alison doesn't know how to even _start _to explain herself anymore). "Don't insult me."

"You mean the world to me." She hadn't _meant _to say that, hadn't meant to admit to anything but she can't help it when she sees the fury simmering in Emily's eyes, can't bear the thought of her thinking she's worthless when she's so much more than she'll ever know.

"Don't _lie _to me!" The brunette steps forward angrily and Alison flinches back, actually afraid for a second because she's never seen Emily like this, never thought she could even _be _like this. "Every word that comes from your mouth is a lie. Have you ever told the truth, Ali? Do you even know _how _to?"

She knows that she's lost any and all chance she had at trying to be honest with Emily, if she'd ever really had it all, because no matter she says the brunette isn't going to believe her, and she has no way to change that.

She looks at her and she wonders if they'll ever be able to get past this, and she doesn't think that they will. She doesn't think that Emily will ever trust her again, and really, she can't blame her after the things she's done and the ways she's hurt her, and she's never believed in happy endings but for a moment in her bedroom with Emily's arms wrapped around her she'd dared to dream of one – and now she's destroyed it, that and the woman that she loves and probably herself in the process, too, and she was stupid to even think that she could ever have that.

_Emily _deserves that, but she doesn't. Emily deserves the world, and Alison will never be able to give her that because she's poison, she's crept into everyone's lives and destroyed them, and it's no wonder that they all hate her, now, and she wishes that she'd never come back to this town because all she seems to have done is made everything worse.

She'd been selfish to allow herself to come back here, to give in to Emily's kindly eyes and pleading words, and she wonders who regrets it more – her for agreeing or Emily for asking, but it doesn't matter anymore because she can't take any of it back even if she wanted to (and she does want to, she wants that more than anything – she'd give anything to have a second chance at it all, but there aren't enough second chances in the world to make up for all the destruction that she's wrought).

"I hate myself for loving you." The amount of self-loathing in the brunette's voice makes Alison want to scream, because she's _done _this, Emily like this is a product of her creation, she's twisted and shaped her into this and she'd never thought of the consequences of any of it, had selfishly wanted but pretended she hadn't because it was the only way she knew how to face herself in the morning (which is despicable, she knows that, but she's never known how to love, never shown how, and she knows that's not really an excuse but it's all she _has_). "I wish you _were -_A because then I could hate you instead of feeling like this… like I'm breaking every time I think about you. Do you get some kind of sick satisfaction out of it? Out of all of this? I saw you string along all of those boys in high school and play with them like they were toys and I never thought that I'd ever become one of them."

"You were never - "

"I said don't _lie_ to me!" Alison's jaw clenches, her teeth grinding together, and she wonders what the point of her standing there is if Emily's not going to let her speak a word, and it makes her angry even though it _shouldn't_, and she has no _right _to be, after everything that she's done, but she's never been good at controlling her anger and it explodes out of her with a viciousness that takes the both of them by surprise.

"What do you want me to say, Em?" Her voice is taunting in a way that she'd perfected a long, long time ago, and she takes a step closer to Emily until they're practically touching, and this close the heat of Emily's fury feels like it burns. "That none of it ever meant anything to me? That you were just like all of those boys? That I got off on stringing you along, laughed about it behind your back, about how pathetic you were?"

She sees tears spring into Emily's eyes and she hates herself for this, for all of it, and she wishes that she hadn't been weak enough to come over here in the first place (but she's always, always been weak when it comes to Emily, and the brunette has a hold over Alison greater than she'll ever realize). "Because I could tell you all of those things but they're all lies and you told me not to do that. I don't care what you think about me but you _have _to believe that, Em. _Please_."

"I don't know how to believe anything you say anymore." She's looking down at Alison with desolation in her eyes, and Alison's heart clenches hard in her chest and she doesn't know how to _fix _this, how to undo the damage she's done to this woman and how to free Emily Fields from her clutches.

And then she wonders if maybe the best way to do that is to make Emily hate her. If she's cold enough, callous enough, if she can channel enough of her old self to remind Emily of how she felt when she was fifteen years old and Alison shoved her away in the locker room and left her humiliated, maybe it'll be enough – enough for Emily to move on and leave her behind and have a life that she _deserves_, away from the mess that is Alison DiLaurentis and the wave of destruction that she leaves in her wake.

And it'll destroy her, worse than it'll hurt Emily. Because it'll mean letting go of the one person that she's ever loved, it'll mean shoving her away so hard that she'll never be able to get her back – and she doesn't know if she can do that. She doesn't know if she's strong enough to survive it.

But then she looks into Emily's eyes again and sees how empty she looks, remembers a time when her eyes would have been filled with laughter and love and light, but a mere shadow of a memory now, ripped away by Alison and everything that she brings along with her – and it gives her the strength she needs to be able to do what she needs to do to make sure that she can end this… whatever they have (_had_, she reminds herself sternly, because they don't have much of anything right now aside from pain and anger and resentment, and that's not anything on which to build a relationship on, even she knows that), right here and now.

"Well believe this." Emily seems to sense the change in Alison's demeanour, the tiniest of creases appearing between her eyebrows, and the blonde has to fight to keep her voice from trembling, has to fight down a wave of revulsion for herself for what she's about to do, but she… she needs to do this, because they can't keep doing this, this back and forth that's hurting them both and it's better to do this now before they go too far to take it back.. "Because I lied before.

"You don't mean the world to me, and you never did. I don't know how to love, Emily, and I never loved you, not like you loved me. I read your letter, before I disappeared." She'd cried over it, had replayed the words in her head over and over again for weeks afterwards when she'd been lying in a dingy abandoned building and just fighting to keep herself alive, lamented about what a vile person she was, to do that to someone that she _did _care about. "I thought it was sweet. A little _pathetic_," she sees Emily flinch, and she's never despised herself as much as she does in this moment, and she feels self-loathing clawing its way up her throat, and she wants to desperately to tell Emily the truth, to tell her that she'll always love her, she loves her so much that it scares her, right down to her core, but she can't break this woman any more than she already has, she can't know what it's like to love Emily and have her love her back and for them to be happy because if she ever loses it she won't be able to live through it. "But sweet.

"I was always using you – you know that, right? Back then it was just for fun, but the other night, in my room… I needed to keep you close to me, on my side, and a little part of me just wanted to know if you still had feelings for me, too. I guess I got my answer. What's it like, to know that with just a handful of well-placed words someone can suck you right back in like two years never passed?"

She should have expected it, really – Emily's different now, just like she is, but even so, it comes as a surprise when the brunette's hand connects with her cheek, and Alison tastes blood in her mouth as pain floods through her body, and damn, Emily slaps harder than Mona could ever dream of doing, and her head spins dizzyingly for a moment but she's almost grateful for the pain, to have a physical reminder of what a _monster _she is.

"_Fuck _you." It's the first time she's ever heard Emily direct that at anyone, and her voice shakes, and when she lifts her head to look into the brunette's eyes Emily is looking at her like she's never seen her before, but it's still not _enough_, she hasn't pushed hard enough, so she forces a smirk and ignores the pain throbbing through her cheek.

"Oh, but you'd like that, wouldn't you?" She's taunting her, inviting another hit – a part of her almost wants it, because god knows she deserves it (that, and a hell of a lot _more_). "To fuck me? Do you dream about it? Do you - "

She's cut off when Emily's hand fists in the material of her jacket, yanking hard, and she can feel the fury radiating off the brunette and wonders what she's going to do next – she braces herself for another slap and is surprised when instead a mouth presses against hers, and Emily kisses her with a desperation and ferocity that Alison has never felt before, her lips bruising as they move hard against Alison's, her tongue demanding as it sweeps into the blonde's mouth, and Alison wants so badly to surrender to this, to let herself go and enjoy this one last moment, wants it more than she's ever wanted anything in her entire life.

But she thinks that Emily's doing this to try and trip her up, to try and prove to herself that Alison's lying this time, too, that she doesn't mean any of this, and that if Alison kisses her back then it'll erase all the things that she's said – and Alison can't go through this again, isn't strong enough to handle pushing Emily away a second time, so she steels herself and brings her hands up to Emily's shoulders, uses all her strength to shove the brunette away, makes sure that her lips curve into a mocking smile even though all she wants to do is break down and cry.

"If you think that's going to change my mind then you're underestimating yourself, Em. No-one's _that _good of a kisser." She scrutinises Emily's face, sees that her anger has given way to heartbreak, and decides that she's done enough damage – she's won, because there's no coming back from this, now, no way that Emily will ever look at her the same way ever again, and she feels empty, hollow, clenches her jaw in order to force back the wave of tears that threaten to fall from her eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have place to be, people to torment. Texts to send."

Emily doesn't answer her, just lowers her eyes to look at the floor, and Alison forces herself to move, to leave the room and never look back – she barges past the brunette on her way, one final reminder that she doesn't care (even though she does, can still feel the hard press of Emily's lips against her own and wants nothing more than to drown in her, and the second that their bodies are pressed together is almost enough to make her waver, but she's gone too far to take any of it back so she forces herself to the door, instead).

"It doesn't have to be like this." There's desperation colouring Emily's voice and it stops Alison in her tracks but she daren't turn around because she hadn't counted on this, on Emily still refusing to give up on her, and her lips twist into a bitter smile because the brunette still wants to desperately believe that Alison is good and she's not.

She never was and she knows that she never will be.

"Actually, it does."


	19. Best Mistake

**Title: Best Mistake**

**Prompt: **Please can you write a prompt about Ali doesn't want to be alone christmas night so pick up Vivian D. personality and goes clubbing and have a little fun in philly or sg, but emily noticed and following her bc she thinks that she is up to sg. Ali is catches em while she is following her and then they argue and then ali tell her the reason why she is vivien.

Set after the events of the fatale finale.

**Rating: T (Angst ahead). **

* * *

How pathetic is it, to be alone at Christmas?

Because she certainly _feels _pathetic, when her Dad tells her that he's going to visit his Mom for the holidays – he'd asked her to go with him, pleaded, really, but she'd thrown one hell of a tantrum, because it was her first Christmas at home for two years and she wasn't _going _anywhere for it.

Of course, at the time, she'd thought that she'd have friends to spend it with.

She was wrong.

They blame her for Mona's death, all four of them. And she supposed that she can't really blame them – she lies and she keeps things from them and she knows that they don't trust her, but it still _hurts_.

It hurts, that she came back to Rosewood because they asked her to and now they've turned their backs on her and she feels more alone than she ever did when she was on the run, and that's… a miserable existence to have.

But she puts on a brave face when she waves her Dad off on Christmas Eve, because she'd rather be in an empty house than spend it with her Grandma and the rest of that side of the family. He knows that she's not as close with the girls anymore and is reluctant to go, but she assures him that she has other friends (except she doesn't – she practically has _minions_ in those girls that she'd tried to replace the others with, but Emily, Aria, Hanna and Spencer have proved to be irreplaceable), and only allows herself to crumble when the front door has shut behind him.

She's determined not to spend the night alone, though – it's Christmas Eve, and her last had been spent in an abandoned warehouse, shivering beneath a ratty old blanket and wondering if she was even going make it through to the New Year, and she's not going to waste her second chance.

So later that night she pulls on a wig that she hasn't worn since the night she'd sent Cyrus away, and she puts on a dress that she knows will turn heads – it's black, with a plunging neckline and it rises obscenely high on her thigh, couples it with killer heels that make her legs look like they go on for miles – before grabbing the fake ID that she's used more times than she can count, slipping on a coat and heading out the front door.

When she'd been gone she'd swore to never return to this, she swore that she'd leave Vivian Darkbloom behind, but she hadn't been able to. A part of her is too drawn to this, to dressing up as someone else and _becoming _someone else, even if it's only for a night – as soon as the wig is on she's no longer Alison DiLaurentis, and she's not tied down by anything or anyone, and she _loves_ it.

She's halfway to the train station when she notices the sound of footsteps behind her. She tenses, but she doesn't turn around, forces herself to keep her eyes forward on the pavement in-front of her. She tells herself that she's just being paranoid, but she knows she's not – there a lot of people out to get her, she's not naïve.

But she's also not stupid, and she takes a detour so that she passes a hair salon, grabs the tiny mirror that she keeps in her purse and holds it up, pretending to check her make-up – but she angles it so that it catches the reflection of the person behind her in the mirrors within the salon, and she nearly scoffs when she realizes who it was.

She doesn't know why Emily's following her. The brunette is clearly trying to be subtle, dressed all in black and keeping a careful distance, and in the brief seconds that Alison has her in her sight she sees that the brunette's eyes are watchful.

It stings, to think that they've come to this. To the girls not trusting her to the extent that they'll follow her just to see what she's up to. She knows that she should whirl around and confront Emily, tell her to back the hell off and that she has no _right _to do this, but there's a bitter part of her (that part of her heart that was shattered in Emily's bedroom, and Emily's voice still haunts her dreams at night, a month later), that wants to lead Emily on a wild-goose chase, and wonders how far, and for how long, Emily will follow her for.

When she gets on the train to Philly, Emily does too. She sits several rows behind Alison, and the blonde wants to roll her eyes because she's not being subtle at _all_ and does she really expect to be able to get one over on Alison, who has survived out on her own for two years?

There's a club in Philly that CeCe had dragged her to the Christmas before she'd disappeared, and she'd had the best night there – that's where she heads when the train stops in the city a little while later (she'd spent the journey alternating between playing with her phone and watching Emily in the reflection that the windows offer her).

She thinks that she might have lost Emily in the crowd of people waiting on the platform, but when she emerges onto the street outside the station she catches a glimpse of the brunette behind her and doesn't know whether to sigh with relief or disappointment.

She's half-way to the club when she finally turns and confronts her, spinning around suddenly in the middle of the street and watching as Emily's eyes widen in alarm – Alison's too quick to leave the brunette with any time to hide herself, and she folds her arms across her chest and leans back against the brick wall behind her and shoots Emily her best glare.

"You really need to work on your stalking skills," she calls, a mocking edge to her voice, and she watches Emily flush at her words but she takes no pleasure in it – not like she would if it were anyone else.

"I'm not stalking you." She takes several hesitant steps forward before stopping just shy of where Alison stands, burying her hands in the pockets of the jacket that she's wearing.

"Following, stalking," Alison shrugs, tilting her head to one side. "Both the same thing, in the end."

"How long have you known I was following you?"

"Pretty much the whole time. Like I said – you need to work on that." She tries to sound bored, even though there's a part of her that feels more alive than she has in weeks – because Emily's barely spoken a word to her since Alison had left her house on that awful, awful night where Emily had played her so, so well, let alone looked at her, and she feels the full weight of Emily's gaze now and it sends a thrill down her spine, even though she can see how wary Emily is around her.

"So you led me out here." She sounds angry, and Alison scoffs.

"I didn't _lead _you anywhere," she snaps, and Emily flinches at her tone. "I was coming here anyway. Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not up to anything nefarious." She inclines her head towards the club that's just down the street, where there's already a line waiting outside, the sound of the pulsing music within just barely audible where they stand. "I just wanted to get drunk. To be around people during the holidays instead of curled up in my room, alone."

"Then why are you wearing the wig?"

"Sometimes I like pretending to be someone else. Sue me." Alison wonders when they got to be like this – speaking harsh words in even harsher voices, with anger and rage rippling between them, and after everything that she's done, this is what she regrets the most.

What she's reduced Emily to – this angry, mistrustful woman that stands before her – is what she has nightmares about, because Emily didn't deserve anything that Alison put her through. She deserved so much better.

Emily doesn't say anything, and Alison sighs, because it's exhausting, what they're doing. She hates fighting with her – with all of the girls – but most of all she hates the fact that they don't even talk anymore. She'd come back to town at their urging, and now they want nothing to do with her and it makes her heart _break _but she can't allow herself to be vulnerable enough to _tell _them that.

"So you can run home, now. Report back to others that all I'm doing out here is trying to have a good time, and not out committing murder." They've never actually come out and said that they think she was responsible for Mona's death, but they don't need to. She can see it, in every look that they shoot her (and in the way that none of them can bear to look her in the eye, anymore). "_Go_," she hisses, when Emily doesn't move, because she's tired and she'd hated being alone but now she craves it, wants to be away from the judgement and the mistrust she sees shining in Emily's dark, dark eyes.

"No." Emily sets her jaw, stubborn, and Alison's eyes flash with anger because how _dare _she? "I'm not going anywhere."

"_Why_?" Alison asks, through gritted teeth.

"Because I don't trust you," the brunette replies bluntly, and Alison flinches like the words are a physical hit, because even though she _knew,_ Emily has never said it, has never looked at her like this – hurt and angry and _disappointed _and she _hates _it.

"So are you going to follow me everywhere now? Never let me out of your sight? Why? Because you think I killed Mona? I'd tell you that I didn't have anything to do with it but I know there's no point because you'd never believe me. I'm big, evil Alison, right? Head 'A'? So sick and twisted that I'd pretend to torture _myself_… why? Because I get my kicks watching the rest of you suffer?"

"I don't know why you do the things you do," Emily answers after a few moments of heavy silence, scrutinizing Alison carefully, her voice soft. "I never did. I never understood you."

"Trust me," she says bleakly, bitterness marring every word. "You don't want to." Her mind is twisted and warped and something that no-one else wants insight into, she knows that.

She doesn't miss the fact that Emily hasn't denied any of the things that Alison had said, and it causes that ache in her chest – the one she gets whenever she thinks about Emily, of the way she'd said '_I wasted so much time on you_' and remembers the way she'd walked away from her.

"Please just go."

"I thought you didn't want to be alone?" Emily's voice is almost taunting, and Alison sees herself reflected back at her as she looks the brunette in the eye (and she'd seen herself in Emily that day in her room, too, when she'd been played for a fool, but she'd pushed the resemblance away at the time), but she can't avoid it now – she wonders just how much more of her has seeped into Emily, and she prays that it's not alot.

Emily deserves so much more than to turn into her.

She doesn't dignify the brunette with a response – she feels tears sting at the back of her eyelids and she blinks them hastily away because she is Alison DiLaurentis and she does _not _cry in-front of people (she used to allow herself to, in-front of Emily, because she was the only one she could let her walls down around, but not anymore – this Emily standing before her now is a stranger, and one that she won't allow to see her break down) – instead she turns on her heel and stalks away.

It's wishful thinking, to hope that Emily won't rush after her, and she hears the brunette's voice calling out behind her but ignores it, just walks a little faster and she wonders if she makes it to the door of the club if she'll be safe, because what are the odds that Emily will have a fake ID with her, too?

But she never makes it, because a hand closes around her shoulder when she's still a dozen strides away, and Emily spins her around back to face her, and they're so close that for a moment Alison is paralyzed, drowning in the scent of Emily's perfume and breathing the same air and she can feel the heat radiating from the brunette's body and she can't _think_.

Emily takes a hasty step away from her after a second too long for their proximity to be an accident, dropping her hold of Alison's shoulder like it suddenly burns, but Alison can still feel the heavy press of the brunette's fingers against her (and it brings back another memory, of strong hands wrapping around her shoulder and dragging her closer, of being on-top of Emily as they'd kissed long into the night and god, she'd give anything to re-live that night, to feel Emily's lips against hers just one more time, desperate and needy and _amazing_, but she thinks that she might never know that feeling ever again).

"Alison, I…" Emily sighs, and the blonde tries not to wince when her full name comes from Emily's mouth – she'd give anything to hear the brunette call her Ali, just one more time. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I just –"

"I don't need your _pity_," she spits, because she can see it, hiding in Emily's gaze beneath her anger and her frustration, she _pities _her because she has no-one and the tables have most definitely turned – she'd taken each of the girls in, when they had no-one, had brought them together, and yet now she's the one left in the dark on her own.

She'd brought them all together, and this is how they repay her.

"I'm not…" Emily trails off when Alison glares at her, sighs instead. "I'm sorry for following you out here, okay? I shouldn't have."

"You don't say." She's still so angry, knows that Emily is, too, and she also knows that they're not going to get anywhere tonight like this. There won't be a reconciliation before Christmas Day (she thinks of the present she has for Emily, another snow globe to go along with the one she'd given her on the day she'd disappeared – she'd bought it while she'd been on the run with Emily in mind, vowing that one day she'd give it to her, and she thinks it's ironic, that now, when she has the opportunity to, she knows that Emily won't take it from her), and a part of her wonders if there will _ever _be one.

Maybe she should just leave town again.

Emily's phone rings, blaringly loud, and the brunette jumps before pulling it out of her pocket – Alison sees Spencer's name flashing across the screen and her lips twist into a bitter smile. "Are they checking that you're still alive? Wondering whether to send out a rescue party? Or are they here, too, hovering around a corner and waiting to confront me?"

Emily ignores her, instead accepts the call and presses the phone to her ear, and she promptly winces as soon as she does – Alison can hear the sound of Spencer's raised voice even though she stands several steps away.

_"What the hell were you thinking, going after her like that?!" _Alison hears, and she shakes her head, because the thought of her ever hurting Emily (physically, at the very least, because she knows she's inflicted enough emotional damage, over the years, to leave a lasting scar) is ridiculous, and she wishes that they'd _believe _that.

"Spence –" Emily tries to cut off her friends ranting, but Spencer starts up again almost immediately and Alison casts a glance over her shoulder at the club and wonders if she can take advantage of Emily's temporary distraction and sneak her way into it.

Emily turns her back to Alison slightly and that's all the invitation she needs. She starts to inch her way slowly backwards, and when the brunette doesn't notice her movements she spins and makes a break for it, and this time, Emily isn't quick enough to catch her – she shrugs her coat open and flashes the youngest bouncer at the door one of her trademark smiles, ID in hand, and he ushers her in immediately, much to the disgust of the line of people waiting to get in.

Boys are always _so _predictable – a pretty girl shows a bit of skin and they'll do anything for her. _Not _that she's going to complain, because she'll be the first to admit that it's gotten her out of a few tight spots, over the years.

Once she's inside she breathes out a sigh of relief because she knows that Emily won't be able to get in here nearly as easily – she's gorgeous, yes, but she's not wearing anything nearly as revealing as Alison's and the blonde knows that she'd never use her looks to get in, anyway.

Which all works out for her, because as much as she's missed Emily these past four weeks, she'll take the lingering glances from afar that she's had to settle for at school over an argument with her, any day.

Inside the main room of the club the music is so loud that she can barely hear herself think, which is _exactly _what she'd wanted. She sheds her coat and heads straight for the bar, orders three shots and she downs them all within the space of about thirty seconds.

"Whoa," she hears a voice from her left and turns to see a guy watching her with a look of awe in his green eyes. "Rough day?"

"Rough _year_," she fires back, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes run down over her body when she shifts slightly to face him, and whereas once that would have made her feel alive, _wanted_, now it just has revulsion clawing up her throat.

But he's pretty cute, and she's pretty lonely, and she thinks that it might be nice, for once, to talk to someone who doesn't hate her, to actually feel like she _matters_, to someone, even just for a few hours.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure."

x-x-x

She's drunk.

Not like, to the point where she's going to pass out somewhere or throw up, but… pretty drunk. Her head is fuzzy and she feels a little dizzy as she sways on the dancefloor to the pounding beat of the music, and she's not entirely sure if she'd still be on her feet if not for the pair of warm hands that grip her waist.

But it's… nice, in a way. Because at least if her mind is hazy then she's not _thinking_, and that's all she seems to do lately. Sit and think and remember all of the awful things she's done and all the people that she'd hurt, and god, it's nice to just be able to… stop, for a little while.

"Hey, do you wanna get out of here?" A voice speaks low into her ear as the hands at her hips grip harder, bringing her closer to the solid body at her back and she hates the disappointment that floods through her at the feeling because Lee (the guy from the bar who's been providing with her with drinks all night that she hadn't been able to bring herself to turn down), is all hard lines but the body she _wishes _she was pressed against is all soft curves.

And she hates that she still wants Emily. She craves her, all day, every day – she's in her dreams and her nightmares and she's inescapable, and Emily is her drug and she's an addict that doesn't know how to _stop_.

She doesn't know how to stop _wanting _her, wishes that she could stop thinking about the way her lips felt against hers, wishes she could forget the feeling of soft skin beneath her fingertips, and the stupid _look _in her eyes when she'd glanced up at Alison through her lashes when the blonde had been straddling her hips on that night in her room, and whispered that she never wanted it to end.

But end it had – all because of fucking _Mona_ and her stupid _video _and that was the exact moment her life started to spin out of control because Emily had started to slip away, and now she looks back and wonders how she got here.

She wishes she could take so many things back.

"Vivian?" Lee prompts, and she realizes belatedly that she'd been too deep in her own head to answer his question, and he turns her in his arms so that they're facing one another. "Did you hear me?"

"I… I'd rather stay. Just for a little while." Just until she can make an excuse about needing the bathroom and slip out of the door instead – she's had enough experience with drunken horny boys to know the best way to escape when they wanted something that she wasn't ready to give.

"Really?" He leans down towards her and she's too slow to realize what he's planning and to move away – his lips are rough against hers, and he kisses too hard, and he uses _far _too much tongue and it's a world away from the gentle and delicate way that Emily had kissed her and she's relieved when he pulls away. "Even now?"

She barely manages to hold back a scoff – does he think an awful kiss is enough to make her change her mind and let him take her home? God, she'd forgotten how _idiotic _some guys could be, and suddenly she just wants to get _out _of there.

"Let me just run to the bathroom," she says with a sweet smile, and he grins and nods, releasing his hold on her hips and as soon as she's turned her back she allows the fake smile to drop and just barely represses a shudder because god, what had she been _thinking_?

She heads towards the bathroom and when she's nearly there glances over her shoulder to check that he's not watching her, before turning for the exit instead – and she nearly runs straight into Emily, and when their eyes meet she's taken aback by the rage she sees painted over the brunette's expression.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Emily's voice is hard, and anger crackles in the air between them – Alison feels it almost like a physical presence, and she can see hurt in the brunette's eyes, too, and she doesn't know how to _feel _about that.

Because that means that she must still care, and that's… impossible.

"Is this why you came here?" She asks, and there's a bitterness in her voice that makes Alison's heart ache. "To throw yourself at some random guy? Or did you do that just for me?"

"Not everything is about you," she hisses back, even though it is. It _is_, everything is about Emily for her, now. She's her every thought, her every want, her every_thing_. But she's had to watch Emily and Paige get back together and Paige flaunts their relationship in-front of Alison every chance that she gets and she will _not _be lectured by Emily for just trying to _forget _about it all. "And don't you dare blame me when you _followed _me in here in the first place."

"Because I was worried about you!" Alison just blinks at her, stunned, because that doesn't make any _sense_. What _does _is Emily's anger, her distrust, but not… not this. Not caring, not anymore. "I was worried that you were gonna get trashed and someone would take advantage of you but clearly seeing as that's what you _wanted _I shouldn't have even bothered."

"I was only trying to forget about you." That's not what she _means _to say – it's what she'd been thinking but she wasn't planning on ever _telling _Emily that – and she blames it on the alcohol as she watches Emily's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"I don't…" Emily trails off, her eyes watching Alison warily and Alison hates that she still doesn't believe that Alison could ever actually have feelings for her, that she'll never understand the hold she has over her.

And it's all her fault, for lying too many times and for making Emily think that she meant nothing even though she was _everything_.

She never finds out what Emily was planning on saying next because Lee appears over Alison's shoulder, and the glare that Emily shoots him is so fearsome that it makes her proud. "Is everything alright here?" He asks as he comes to stand beside Alison, looking at Emily curiously. "Are you ready to go?"

"She's not going anywhere with you," Emily fires back, taking a step forward and wrapping a hand around Alison's wrist, dragging her so that she's stood beside her (she tries not to focus on the way that Emily's touch feels like it burns, sends sparks shooting through her body and she hopes that Emily can't feel the frantic beating of her pulse beneath her palm). "So why don't you go back over to the bar and find someone else you can ply with enough alcohol to make them think that leaving with you is a good idea."

Alison's never seen Emily so angry (at least, not directed at someone other than _her_), and it's… is it wrong that she thinks it's really, really hot? Because it is, to see her so worked up, so _jealous_, on her behalf.

She expects Lee to argue, but instead he just watches the two of them carefully for a few seconds longer before shrugging and walking away, and as soon as he's gone Emily's hand tightens on her wrist and she drags her out of the club and onto the street outside.

"What the hell are you doing?" Alison snaps as the cold air washes over her face, sobering her up a little, as she wrenches her arm out of the brunette's grip.

"Taking you home," Emily growls back, her eyes flashing, and Alison scoffs and folds her arms across her chest and _glares_.

"You're not my fucking _babysitter_," she snarls, because she's angry now, too. "I can make my own decisions."

"Clearly not very good ones."

"Why do you even _care_? Why do you care what happens to me? Why do you care if I come out here and get wasted and sleep with some random guy?" Emily winces but doesn't answer, just stands and looks at her, indecision in her dark eyes. "Why do you _care_?" She repeats, her voice cracking.

"Because I still care _about you_." When Emily speaks her voice is low, raw, but her expression is unreadable. "It's messed up, right? I know I shouldn't. That's what they all tell me – Spencer and Hanna and Aria. That you were always just using us and that you never cared, and they say that you killed Mona and that I should stay far away from you because you'll come after us next. Hell, Paige is the worst of them all. But I think it's because she knows that whenever I'm with her I can't stop thinking about you."

Alison is speechless, can only stare. Because she'd never expected that. She's spent weeks telling herself to forget anything and everything to do with Emily Fields because any chance she'd had with her was lost, for good.

That there was no coming back from where they'd ended up, at the bottom of the abyss with a mountain to climb to get back out of it again. And yet here Emily stands, tears in her eyes as she looks back at Alison, offering her a rope in the darkness so that she can start to haul herself up.

"Please don't," Emily says when Alison finally opens her mouth to try and find the words to reply with. "Please don't tell me how pathetic I am for still loving you, even now. Because I know I am but I don't need to hear you say it. If you ever cared about me at all just… don't say a word."

So she doesn't.

Instead she lunges forward to curl a hand around the back of Emily's neck and leans up to press their lips together. She feels Emily stiffen and wants to cry because she's sure she's about to be pushed away (and she'd deserve it, too, for all the times she'd done that to Emily, over the years), but instead the brunette's hands grab her hips and she slams her backwards into the wall at her back, and when Alison gasps in surprise the brunette's tongue slides into her mouth and it turns into a moan, instead.

Emily kisses her with desperation, and Alison kisses back just as hard, her hands tangling in the brunette's hair as Emily presses the length of her body flush against her, and a toned thigh slips between Alison's legs and she groans at the feeling, clutching Emily closer and one of the brunette's hands slides down over her thigh, and the touch against her bare skin is electric.

Emily's fingers wrap around her leg, lifts it so that her foot is flat against the wall behind her, and the brunette's hand slides up until she's cupping Alison's ass, fingers digging into her flesh hard – it makes her hips grind against the thigh still between her legs, and the feeling of rough denim against her soaked underwear pushes the air from her lungs, and she feels like she's on fire.

When their lips part Emily's lips move almost immediately down the column of her neck, pressing hard kisses against her skin, and Alison can only tilt her head back against the wall and offer herself up, because she never, ever wants to stop – and she doesn't care that they're practically in public, that anyone could see them at any moment, and she doesn't care about the fact that Emily has a girlfriend, or that this, whatever they're doing right now, is disastrously wrong.

All she cares about is the feeling of Emily pressed up against her, of her mouth and her hands on her skin, of brandishing this moment in her mind forever, in-case she never gets the chance again.

It's Emily's phone that brings it to its inevitable end – whilst Emily's marking her neck with her teeth, sucking the skin into her mouth before soothing the sting with her tongue, whilst Alison's hands grip the brunette's hair so hard that it must be hurting her, and she's biting down on her lip so hard in an attempt to keep quiet that she can taste the copper of blood in her mouth – and she wants to tell Emily to ignore it.

She wants to tell her to throw it away into the gutter, and keep on kissing her until the sun is rising around them, until they're both dizzy and until everything else in the world has ceased to exist except for them.

But she knows better than to ask, so she bites her tongue when Emily tears herself away, and Alison can't help but glance at the brunette's phone once again, expecting it to be Spencer – and she feels cold all over when she sees Paige's name on the screen, instead.

Emily's face twists into a grimace, and Alison would give anything to know what she's thinking as she extricates herself from Alison's arms and takes two steps away, breathing in deeply and running a hand through her hair before she presses the phone to her ear.

"H-hey." Her voice shakes, and Alison wants to smirk, because _she's _responsible for that – she wants to revel in this victory over Paige, but instead she just feels sick.

She feels sick because Paige doesn't deserve this. Alison had tortured her for the simple reason of petty jealously, over the fear that if Emily saw that someone else could give her everything that she wanted from Alison, then the brunette would go scampering away and never look back.

So instead she'd made Paige's life a living hell (and Emily's, too) – she wonders if, she'd stood back and not interfered, they would have gotten together sooner. She wonders if Emily would be better off for it, forgetting about her and falling in love with someone else who would take care of her, instead.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't hear my phone," she hears Emily saying. "No, I'm at Spencer's." Alison wonders how many times Emily has lied to Paige about her, and she feels like a dirty little secret and she _hates _it.

(But it's all her fault – _she _had kissed Emily, and to her it doesn't matter that Emily had kissed her back).

"Yeah, I will. I'll be there, I promise." Emily pauses, listening to whatever Paige has to say on the other end. "Okay. Merry Christmas." Alison glances at her watch and sees that midnight is indeed long gone – it's nearing one a.m. now, and she knows that, no matter how badly about it she feels now, she's already gotten the greatest present she's ever going to get, in getting to kiss Emily one more time. "I-I love you, too."

Alison flinches as the words fall from Emily's lips, even though she probably should have expected them, because she's never heard Emily say them to her (and she knows that she does, but _knowing _and _hearing _them are different things), and it _hurts_.

Emily hangs up the phone, then, and her eyes are dark and unreadable as they meet Alison's, and the blonde doesn't know what to _say_. Because Emily has someone, someone who's probably a hundred times better for her than Alison is, because Alison burns everything that she touches and she doesn't even know if she knows _how _to love, let alone _be_ in a relationship, and Emily deserves so much more than Alison thinks she'll ever be able to give her.

"This doesn't change anything," Emily says eventually, and her voice is rough, strained, and Alison thinks that it's too late for that, because she's already been changed by all of this. "And it can't happen again."


	20. For The First Time

**Title: For The First Time**

**Rating: K+**

**Prompt: Alison and Emily's awkward but cute first official date.**

* * *

"Why are you so nervous?" Hanna asks from where she's lying sprawled across Emily's bed, watching her freak out as she tries to get herself ready for the date she has later that night – she's already tried on and rejected about ten outfits, and she knows it's bad when even _Hanna_ is getting bored of clothes.

"Because!" Emily's been fretting about this all week, but she's been especially bad today, with seven o' clock drawing ever closer. She hadn't gotten _anything _done in school that day, barely even remembers getting out of bed and _going _to school, and has probably acted like a zombie for all of it.

And she'd invited Hanna over to help her get ready, because she'd thought she would be _helpful_, but instead all she's done is tell her she looks fine each and every time she's put something new on, and she doesn't _want _fine, she wants _perfect_, she wants her date to open the door and forget her own name.

"It's only Alison." Emily whirls around from where she'd been eyeing the purple dress she'd changed into with a critical gaze in the mirror, so fast that she nearly falls over, a look of disbelief crossing her face as she eyes the blonde on the bed.

"_Only _Alison? _Only _the girl I've been in love with since I was fourteen? _Only _the only person I've ever wanted to be with. I've been dreaming about this day for _three years_ thinking it would never happen and all you have to say is it's '_only Alison_'?"

Hanna looks taken aback at Emily's outburst, eyes widening as she blinks in surprise, and Emily runs a frustrated hand through her hair because Hanna doesn't _get _it. _None _of her friends get it, not really. Because sure, they'd all thought Alison was dead and then had their lives turned upside down when she came back, but… it wasn't the same.

They hadn't spent a summer filled with regret, losing themselves in a bottle of vodka that they stole from their parents liquor cabinet, because the love of their life was dead. And maybe she was being dramatic, because she'd never really _had _Alison, at _all_, because the blonde wasn't the type of person that _belonged _to anyone, but… she'd loved her, with all her heart and soul, and it had been terrifying and exhilarating and… _painful_ all at the same time.

Alison had been her everything, but then… she was gone. Like a wisp of smoke disappearing into the air, one night she was there, and the next… nothing. And the days had stretched into months and then into years and there'd been no sign of her, and Emily had had to try and get over the ghost of the girl that she'd been so hopelessly in love with that she'd never truly fallen out of it.

And then she'd come back, and it had been everything that Emily had thought she'd ever wanted but it turned out to be _nothing _like that. Because Alison was a whirlwind that left her confused and hurt and she hadn't been able to _deal _with it.

_Alison _hadn't been able to deal with it, either, hadn't been able to let the friends that she'd left behind back into her life. And it had been a torturous few months of thinking that Alison was A (but never truly believing it – at least not in Emily's case), before the crushing realization that they'd been wrong, that she was trying to _help _them, and… Emily supposes it's a good thing that all five of them have done so many fucked up things to each other because otherwise there was no way to come back from where they'd ended up, no way to forgive and forget.

But they had, and they'd brought A down together, and then, after two weeks of awkwardness and hesitancy between her and Alison (because still, _still _they hadn't talked about those kisses in the safe darkness of Alison's room, and it had driven Emily _insane_, all that time, and she knows that the fact that she had never been able to forget about the feeling of kissing Alison DiLaurentis was a huge part of the reason why her relationship with Paige had quickly fizzled out again, for the second time), the blonde had finally confronted her one day.

And Emily would never forget it, the way that Alison had cornered her (in the girls' bathroom, of all places – she's teased the blonde about it, after, when she's been able to make her brain work again, stunned by Alison's revelation), and had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she still had feelings for Emily and that she wanted to take her on a date, if she wanted to.

And Emily had kissed her (and god, it felt so, so _good_, so _right_ to be able to do that again, and she hadn't ever wanted to _stop_), because she thought she'd lost whatever slim chance she'd had with Alison on that day in her bedroom when the blonde had walked away from her, angrier than Emily had ever seen her (at least directed at _her_).

But there she was, telling Emily that she wanted to give them a chance, and it was all that she'd ever wanted to hear but never expected to get a chance to… and she's been panicking about it ever since.

"Okay," Hanna finally answers, pulling Emily out of her mind. "Clearly you have a lot of issues." She holds up a hand to silence the brunette when Emily's mouth opens with an angry retort. "I get it, okay? Well, maybe not quite to this extent, but," she shrugs, actually sitting up on the bed for the first time. "I get the pre-date jitters thing. And what I meant by saying it was only Alison is that you've been out with her a hundred times before."

"Not alone," Emily says, chewing nervously on her bottom lip, because she can't remember a time when the two of them have actually ever been somewhere that wasn't at either one of their houses or at school and been completely alone.

Certainly not since the blonde came back to Rosewood.

Before Alison had disappeared, they used to go out all the time without the others – Alison wold smile and wink and say that it was just their little secret, to not tell the others in-case they got jealous. And Emily had been so amazed that Alison actually _wanted _to spend time with her _alone_, that she'd nodded and gone along with it.

But they'd never labelled that (and Emily knows that Alison would have never _dared _to call it a date, back then), and it's _different _now. Now there's an _expectation_, and really, the fact that this has been building for so long just makes her feel ill.

"Oh, god," she says, her mind spinning with possibilities of how their night could go, each one more horrific than the last. "What if we find out that we have nothing in common anymore? What if we don't have anything to talk about and just have to make awkward small-talk all night? What if she realizes after that she doesn't actually like me or we're not compatible together? What if - "

"Em!" The brunette had been so lost in her own head that she hadn't even noticed the blonde move, and when she's confronted by her friend standing in-front of her she jumps. "I'm gonna need you to stop with the what-ifs, okay?"

"But - "

"No, no buts," Hanna talks over her, rests her hands lightly on Emily's shoulders and squeezes gently with very other word. "Look, it's Alison, okay? So don't be ridiculous you two will have tonnes to talk about, and it won't be awkward at all. She's probably freaking out, too – it's her first date with a girl after all, right? You're the pro here. And as for her deciding that she doesn't like you? Come on Em, are you kidding? You're amazing, anyone would be lucky to have you. And it's obvious to anyone with _eyes _that Alison's completely head over heels for you. Trust me."

"Weren't you just a month ago warning me to keep my distance from her?" She remembers the conversation – Hanna had come to her after a night of planning what to do about A, told her that, in spite of everything, she should still be wary about trusting Alison again.

"I…" Hanna sighs, releasing her hold on Emily and turning away, pacing a few steps before coming to halt in-front of the brunette. "I know you think that I've just been like, tolerating this date and whatever comes after it for the sake of you, but… I don't know. I've seen how she is around you, lately. Like there's no walls there. She looks at you like… like you look at her. Like she's your whole world. And I wish I had that."

"Caleb - " Emily starts, but Hanna cuts her off with a wave of her hand.

"Hasn't been the same since Ravenswood. And he doesn't look at me like Alison looks at you. And there's nothing… there's nothing for her to _gain _by lying, anymore. When I warned you about her… I guess I was jealous, a little. I didn't want her to take my best friend away from me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Emily says immediately, reaching out for the blonde and wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. "I love you, and no-one's taking me away from you ever, okay?"

"I know. I was just… being really stupid. But I'm not being anymore. I'm happy for you guys, because god knows you deserve some happiness, for once."

"Hanna Marin," she teases, keeping her voice light and pulling away slightly but still keeping her arms around Hanna's waist. "Are you giving me and Alison your blessing?"

"Oh, fuck off." She shoves Emily away from her playfully and the brunette laughs, nerves temporarily forgotten, and _this _was why she needed Hanna to be with her tonight, instead of the others – because she's the only one who'd know how to take her mind off of it. "And for the record, you look amazing in that dress. You should wear that one. Alison's jaw will hit the floor when she sees it, I guarantee."

x-x-x

When the doorbell rings at exactly seven pm Emily scrambles to her feet so fast that she nearly falls flat on her face, forgetting that she's wearing heels – it's only her mother's hand, quick to land on her elbow and steady her, that keeps her upright.

"Careful," her Mom warns, lips twitching as she tries (and fails), to fight a smile. "Don't want to injure yourself before she's even picked you up." Emily can only nod, not quite trusting herself to speak – her Mom's known about Emily's feelings for Alison for months, had let her daughter know that she was there for her to talk through things with, and it had helped, to know that she didn't have to lie and pretend that everything was fine when she came home in a shitty mood because she'd fought with Alison at school _again_, and she loves how supportive her Mom is being of this – how supportive she's _always _been, apart from that minor blip with Maya.

"Okay, Emily," she says to herself as she stands behind the door, trying to psyche herself up, and she hears her Mom chuckling in the background. "You can do this." She promptly decides that she can_not_, in fact, do this, though, when she opens the door to reveal Alison on the other side.

She looks stunning, in a form-fitting black dress and _huge _heels that make her only a couple of inches shorter than Emily, even with her own heels, and she finds herself unable to speak as she takes in the sight of Alison, her mind completely going blank and her heart stuttering in her chest and her breathing stopping, her throat closing up and _god_, how does Alison manage to render her completely speechless, breathless, just by _being_?

"Hey." Alison is the first to speak, and Emily's eyes snap up from where they've been lingering shamelessly at the blonde's chest (she flushes when she realizes herself, as she sees Alison's lips curve into a half-smirk), and would be embarrassed had she not caught the blonde blatantly checking her out, too.

"You look… wow." Alison's smirk turns into a dazzling smile, and Emily's heart stops again because she's devastatingly beautiful and she's here to go on a date with _her_ and she could have never, ever in her wildest dreams have come up with something as wonderful as this moment.

"So do you." Alison holds her gaze, and Emily feels the weight of it like it's tangible, a shiver running down her spine and it was _easy_, in Alison's room, surrounded by the darkness, to pretend that the blonde was just like any other girl, to hide her nerves, but now? Bright and exposed, standing in-front of her and wearing her heart on her sleeve?

Yeah, this is definitely the most terrified that she's ever been in her life.

"Have her home by midnight, Alison," Emily's Mom calls out behind them, snapping them out of their daze and Emily flushes again.

"I will, Mrs Fields," Alison replies easily, flashing the brunette's mother a smile over Emily's shoulder. "I promise." She reaches out a hand towards Emily. "Shall we?" She sees Alison's fingers tremble slightly and hides a smile because it's a relief to know that Alison's nervous, too, before she takes the blonde's hand in one of her own and twists their fingers together.

It's not the first time they've held hands, not by a long shot, but it feels… different, somehow. And Alison's thumb rubs circles against the back of Emily's hand as they walk and it's… kind of ridiculous that something like holding hands can put a stupid smile on her face but it _does_ because it's _Alison_ and the blonde's hand is warm in her own, her skin soft beneath her fingertips and it's _comforting _to just be able to touch her, to know that she's not _going _anywhere.

She's kind of surprised, by how easily conversation flows between them – they've never really run out of things to say before, so it probably _shouldn't _be a shock, but… she'd expected a little awkwardness, at least, and it's a relief when it doesn't happen, and she can practically _feel _herself relaxing as they walk through Rosewood, hand in hand.

They'd both decided to just go simple for their first date, grabbing dinner and then going to a movie. A part of Emily, and, she suspects, a part of Alison, too, had wanted to go all out, to make it really special, but she thinks that there's already too much pressure on this night to be perfect for either of them to actually have to worry about what to actually _do_.

The restaurant they choose is new, one that neither of them has even been to before but that comes highly recommend from both Aria and Spencer. They're seated quickly, and pretty much as soon as their orders have been taken Alison turns to her with a soft, almost shy, smile.

"Can I make a confession?" Emily can only nod, losing herself in blue, blue eyes. "I've been terrified of this night ever since I asked you. Of messing it up. Of you realizing that I'm nothing special, after all."

She's still not entirely used to complete honesty from the blonde, at least outright – she's coaxed a lot out of her, over the last few weeks, but to hear her offer something out of the blue never fails to take her aback because she's just not _used _to it, especially when she's talking about how she feels about her.

But it warms her heart, to know that Alison's been feeling the same as her. And she's never doubted the blonde's feelings for her, not after they'd finally talked things through (and _that _had not been an easy night, but it had been so, so worth it, because without that, without wading through their past, they wouldn't have a present or a future, and they wouldn't be sitting there now), but she knows she'll never get tired of _hearing _them.

"Me, too," she admits, and Alison's smile widens, her hand moving to cover Emily's where it rests on the tabletop, playing with her fingers idly. "I think Hanna wanted to slap me a couple of times this afternoon when she was helping me get ready."

"I called Spencer for a pep talk." Emily would have never expected _that_, and the thought of how that conversation went down makes her laugh.

"How was that?" She asks, and Alison's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she looks happier than Emily's seen her recently, maybe even _ever_, and she's so beautiful that it makes her heart physically _ache_.

"Well, it didn't start _off _great, but… It helped," she says with a shrug, smile still in place. "She told me to 'stop being such a baby' and to 'make this night the best it can be because we both deserve it'. I wasn't so sure about that part, but…"

She trails off, and Emily knows from the look on her face as she ducks her head that she's thinking about the past, that she doesn't deserve a chance with Emily, and she squeezes Alison's hand gently, because she's put it all behind her and she wishes that Alison could, too.

"Hanna said that, too," she murmurs softly, trying to catch Alison's eyes. "And I believe it. Don't you?"

"I… I've done a lot of bad things. _You _deserve eternal happiness, but I… I'm not so sure."

"Well, I can't have eternal happiness without you," Emily says softly, and she means every word – she knows that they're young, that they don't even have a relationship to speak of yet, but Alison DiLaurentis has held her heart since the day they met, and all the last three years have served to do is prove to her that she always will.

Because they've been through so much, the two of them. Life has thrown everything it possibly could at them, but through it all, Emily's always loved her. And if all of the crap that they've been through in the last three years can't make her forget about Alison DiLaurentis and the way that she feels about her, then Emily's sure that nothing ever will.

"I just don't want to mess this up." Alison's voice is small, and Emily doesn't know if the blonde's talking about just this date or their relationship or something else entirely, but she decides that it doesn't matter.

Because Alison is all she wants, all she's ever wanted, and she'll spend the rest of her life following her to the end of the earth if the blonde asked her to.

"You won't," Emily assures her, holding her gaze steadily, hand still wrapped around the blonde's. "And if you do? That's okay. We all mess up sometimes. We'll get through it. Because that's what couples do. That's what _we _do."

"Is this your indirect way of asking me to be your girlfriend?" Alison asks, teasingly, and Emily frowns at the abrupt change of subject before she realizes what she's just said and flushes, because that had _so _not been the right way to go about this.

But the words are out now and she can't take them back, so… what the hell.

"That depends," she says, matching Alison's teasing tone and trying to leave the heavier conversation behind, for the night. "On what your answer would be."

"You already know what the answer is," Alison counters, smile back on her face, and Emily wears a matching one, sure she's never felt so free in her entire life.

"Still wanna hear you say it…"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Emily Fields, I will be your girlfriend."

"Who says I was asking?" Alison swats at her shoulder and she grins, catching the blonde's wrist, bringing it to her lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, wishing that there wasn't a table separating them so she could kiss her lips, instead, and she can tell from the look on the blonde's face that she's thinking the same.

Maybe this night won't be a disaster, after all, because, Emily thinks, it's turning out to be the most perfect date she's ever been on, first or no.


	21. Heartbreaker

**Title: Heartbreaker**

**Rating: T**

**Prompt: Emison get stuck in an elevator after they have a fight. Set post midseason-finale, just before the Christmas ep. Fairly angsty, because I couldn't resist. **

**(I also want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing, because I don't think I have before, so thank you guys so much!)**

* * *

The elevator doors are almost fully closed when a hand appears in the gap, stopping them – Alison huffs in annoyance, because why couldn't they just wait for the next one instead of slowing her down? Not that she really has anywhere to _be_ – she's just doing some shopping at the mall, getting her dress for the Winter Ball, but it's the _principle _of the matter.

She freezes when the doors open and she sees who's on the other side, though, her heart stopping in her chest and the breath rushing from her lungs as a strangled gasp, because Emily Fields stands in the open doorway, staring at her with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

She fully expects the brunette to turn and walk away – she's been avoiding her at school and around Rosewood (Alison is becoming well-acquainted with the sight of Emily's back), and the two of them haven't spoken since that confrontation in the brunette's bedroom, the night that Mona had been murdered.

It stings, knowing that the four of them think that she did it (though the logical part of her knows that it's not _that _ridiculous of a thought, and she'd certainly have a motive), but it makes her angry, too – that they'd _beg _her to come back to town and then turn their backs on her, leaving her out in the cold to deal with the looming threat of A on her own.

Oh wait, no, that's right – _she's _A, so she has nothing to worry about.

Just the mere thought makes her scoff in disgust. She's messed up, she knows that – hell, everyone in the damn _town _knows that – but she's not _that _messed up. Not enough to physically injure herself, to pretend to torture herself, for the sake of keeping up appearances. And the fact that the four of them think that she _is _that fucked up, that she'd hurt them all like that (and she knows she's not perfect, that she _has _hurt them, all of them, in the past, but it's not in the same sick way that A does), is the hardest cross to bear.

She watches Emily carefully, as the brunette's eyes rest on her (and she hates that it sends a shiver through her – she shouldn't be desperate enough to want a woman that seems to hate her but god, she is, she craves Emily still, can't stop thinking about those kisses on that one perfect night that they'd shared together, even though it's been _weeks_), before she turns and throws a quick glance over her shoulder – Alison sees Paige looming behind Emily, and she notices with interest the way Emily grimaces slightly.

And then she grits her teeth and steps inside the elevator and hastily presses the button for a couple of floors up, and Alison is too astounded to do anything but stare. Emily stands as far away from her as possible, practically pressing herself against the wall, but Alison doesn't care – instead her mind is reeling, because Emily would rather spend an awkward three-second elevator ride with Alison than spend time with her _girlfriend_.

Alison knows that they're back together – they're everywhere at school, holding hands, making out at lunch (which only serves to put her _off _of her lunch, because that's not a sight she needs to see, _ever_), and she's had to learn to be able to see them as a couple without seeing red (because she has no right to – Emily is gone, had slipped through her fingers like water, and she'd never had the means to hold her there).

When the elevator groans to a stop, Alison knows immediately that something's wrong – the doors don't open, and it says they're still on the first floor. Panic starts to creep through her, a chill down her spine as terror turns her blood to ice in her veins, and she never used to be claustrophobic but then she'd been thrown in a hole in the ground and felt dirt filling her throat and she doesn't _deal _well with enclosed spaces anymore.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Emily mutters, away to her left, in exasperation as she takes a step towards the doors, slamming her palm down against the metal.

"I don't think that's going to help," Alison says coolly, and she flinches when Emily whirls around to face her with fury in her eyes – she's _never _seen the brunette look like that, and she shrinks back against the wall behind her, and she's never been afraid of Emily hurting her physically but in that moment she wonders if she's actually pushed her far enough to crack her.

"Thank you, for being so _helpful_." There's anger in her voice, too, and she turns away from the blonde as if the sight of her sickens her, instead reaching to snatch the emergency phone from its holder and pressing it to her ear as she types in the number above it.

Alison listens half-heartedly the heated conversation – there's a fault with the elevator that will require some time to fix; no, they are _not _fucking joking; but yes, they will be as quick as they possibly can, but until then they'd have to hang tight – and tries not to think of the irony of this whole situation.

"Bet you wish you hadn't been so desperate to avoid your girlfriend now, don't you?" Alison taunts, as soon as the brunette hangs up the phone – and she knows she shouldn't, that this whole thing will go a lot easier, for the both of them, if they both just keep their mouths shut, but she can't _help _it, and she'll do _anything _to distract herself from the terror that claws its way up her throat with every breath that she takes.

And she's wounded, too – Emily's hurt her, more than anyone else had ever come close to, by turning her back on Alison (whether she deserves it or not, and she thinks that she _does _but that doesn't make it _ache _any less) – and lashing out has always been her favourite defence mechanism.

"What?" Annoyance colours Emily's voice as she turns to shoot Alison another glower over her shoulder. "I wasn't - "

"Oh, please, I'm not blind. You saw that she was coming towards you and you decided that you'd rather be stuck in here with _me_ than have her catch up to you – what's the matter? Trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your fucking _business_," Emily snaps, but Alison knows from the look in the brunette's eyes that she's hit close to home.

"Isn't it?" She doesn't turn away from Emily's glare – instead it fuels her, and she feels her own anger rising in her chest as she stares right back, straightening her spine and setting her jaw.

"_No_," Emily grinds out, from between her teeth, and Alison's smirk is wicked.

"You sure?" She knows she should clench her jaw, stop the words from spilling from her lips, but she can't quite manage it – she's a bitch, before all else, and when she's hurt she claws back at the person who did it to her in whatever way she can. "You don't think of me when you're with her? Remember what it was like that night in my room? When you kiss her do you wish it was me? Do you - "

She cuts off with a startled yelp as Emily's palm slams into the wall beside her head, hard enough for the sound of it to ring, and her eyes are dark and stormy as they meet Alison's, glittering with a rage that makes Alison's mouth go dry.

"Shut the _fuck _up," Emily hisses, voice low, rough with emotion and Alison wonders if anything she's said is true – it's cruel, she knows, to taunt her like this, but a sick part of her wants to see what emotion it brings out of the brunette, thinks that, if Emily can still get mad at her, then she must still _care_, even just a little.

It's a fucked-up philosophy, but she's never claimed to be sound of mind.

"Why?" When she finally speaks her voice is quiet, and she stares into the brunette's eyes and thinks about how easy it would be to lose herself in them. "Are you scared that I'll tell the truth?"

"You've never told the truth a day in your life," Emily scoffs, not without derision, and Alison winces. She's acutely aware of the lack of distance between them – Emily is pressed against her, and she can feel the heat of the brunette's body radiating against her, can feel her breath against her cheek, is surrounded by the scent of Emily' shampoo and perfume and it sets her _alight _because it's the closest they've been in _months_.

"I have about some things."

"Like what?" But there's no curiosity in the brunette's gaze – she's just waiting to see what Alison says and the blonde knows that no matter what it is, Emily's not going to believe her.

"That all those kisses weren't just for practice. That you were the hardest one to leave behind. That - "

"Stop," Emily says, voice rough with anger once more, and her hand, still resting beside Alison's head, clenches into a fist. "I don't believe a word that comes out of your mouth anymore. I don't know how I ever did."

"You did because once upon a time, you loved me." Emily never said it explicitly, at least not _to _her, but she knows it's true – she's known it for a long, long time.

"That time's long gone, now," Emily snaps back, and the vehemence with which she says the words take Alison's breath away, even as she sees the brunette's face harden to hide the flash of emotion in her eyes that tells the blonde that she's lying.

Emily spins away from her, then, as though she can no longer bear the thought of looking at her, of being so close to her, and Alison feels as though she's lost a limb when the heat of the brunette's body moves away, replaced by a cold that seems to sink into her very bones.

"But you love _her_? The girl you were so desperately trying to get away from? That poor substitute for me? Does she help you forget about me? Does losing yourself in her make you feel bette - "

She's cut off again when the brunette whirls around, and this time both of her hands land on either side of Alison's head, and Emily traps her in place with her eyes, and Alison swears she sees the shimmer of tears in them before they're hastily blinked away.

"Stop talking. I don't care what you have to say, I don't know what you're trying to goad me into and I don't _care_. So just… stop." Her voice changes from angry to almost pleading, but Alison's not swayed, her resolve only hardening because maybe, by being trapped in here, she's being handed an opportunity – and maybe she should stop wasting it.

"_Make me_." It's a charged statement, and she doesn't miss the way Emily's eyes flicker down to her lips before darting back up again to meet her gaze, and Alison feels like she can barely breathe – she wants to reach out and drag Emily towards her, she wants to take out all her pent-up frustration and anger from the last few weeks and pour it into a kiss, until neither of them could think straight and until all Emily would ever remember whenever she was with anyone else was the feeling of Alison's mouth pressed against hers.

She wants, but she won't take – it's in Emily's hands, because _she's _the one who put a stop to… whatever thing they'd had (and it wasn't much of one, she knows, because they'd never discussed it, ever, but… it was still _something_), she's the one who has girlfriend, and she's the one who will regret this the most in the harsh light of day, where they're not enclosed by four metal walls, trapped together until they're rescued – and Alison's not about to let the brunette think that she'd forced her into anything.

No, if Emily wants it, too, then she needs to make a move, because Alison refuses, even though her hands itch to wrap around Emily's hips, to dig her fingers into her skin hard enough to bruise, to kiss along the column of her throat and leave a mark, brandish her to the entire world as _hers_ (even though a part of her wonders if she ever will be, completely).

She can see the indecision warring in Emily's eyes, her desire for Alison up against her disgust for all the things that Alison has done and for who she might be, and the blonde waits with bated breath to see which side wins out.

And when Emily finally, finally, cups her jaw with one hand, turning her chin up so that she can press their lips together in a demanding kiss (the type that leaves you breathless and bruised, aching for more), she lets out a whimper of relief that she hopes is quieted by the hard press of Emily's mouth against her own.

The brunette flattens herself against the blonde's body and Alison fights back a groan at the feeling of having Emily pressed so fully against her. There's a thigh pressed hard between her thighs, and Emily rocks against her as her tongue slides into the blonde's mouth before she's pulling away, catching Alison's bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard enough to draw a groan from the back of the blonde's throat and even Alison doesn't know if it's from pain or pleasure – all she's aware of is Emily, the way her hands rove over her body with a possessive edge, her kisses hard and messy and _hot_, and the way that every time the brunette's thigh rocks her against her it sends heat shooting through Alison's whole body until she feels like she's on fire.

When Emily moves away, Alison's eyes flutter open to meet the brunette's, both their breathing laboured, and she can't bring herself to remove her hands from where they've landed at the brunette's hips, encouraging her to grind against her, even as she sees the look of self-hatred on Emily's face – she'd give anything to know what she's thinking, but she's pretty sure she can guess well enough.

Probably that she hates herself for letting Alison still hold so much control over; maybe it's just that she hates that she still wants her, even now. And Alison feels her own sense of self-hatred when she realizes that she doesn't care – she doesn't care that Emily hates that this is happening, as long as it _is_.

She expects Emily to move away, to put some distance between them, but the brunette surprises her once more by twisting a hand in blonde hair and titling Alison's head to the side to press heated kisses against the skin of her neck, teeth grazing against her pulse point before she bites down, hard enough to make the blonde cry out, before her tongue takes over, soothing the bruised skin before trailing up to the shell of her ear, breath hot against it.

"This shouldn't be happening," she says even as a hand dips underneath the top Alison's wearing and traces up and over her ribs, and Alison can barely breathe, everything in her focused on the feeling of Emily's fingertips on her heated skin.

"Is this why you've been keeping your distance?" Alison asks, gasping as Emily's teeth nip gentle at the lobe of her ear before she traces it with her tongue.

"No," she breathes back, hand splaying across Alison's ribcage, feeling the rapid beating of her heart beneath. "At least, not completely."

"So you still think I'm A." It's not a question, and she hates that even if Emily says yes that she knows she doesn't have the strength she'd need to push her away – because Emily Fields is her only weakness, the only thing in the world that could bring her to her knees, and she doesn't even _realize _it, the power she has.

"I don't know what to think." Emily's forehead rests against Alison's, and the blonde opens her mouth to ask something else when the brunette's hand finds the lace of her bra, running teasingly around the edge but never dipping beneath, and she promptly forgets what she was going to say. "I thought I told you to stop talking, anyway."

"And I told you to make me," she fires back, a little impressed that she managed such a fast comeback when she's so thoroughly distracted by the brunette's hands. Emily hums low in the back of her throat, and Alison's eyes flutter closed as she swipes a single finger beneath the cup of Alison's bra.

"If you insist," she murmurs against Alison's lips before she's kissing her again, and her right hand joins her left as she tugs Alison's black bra down impatiently and cups her breasts with both hands, thumbs brushing lightly against her nipples, and Alison's hips grind down against the thigh that's still pressed between her legs as she breathes a moan into Emily's mouth.

They've never done this before, never gone any further than just kissing – and Alison wouldn't have wanted it to happen like this, when she'd dared to dream that she could have it. She would have scoffed at the idea of being felt up by Emily Fields for the first time in an elevator when the two of them can barely look each other in the eye because there's so much regret and uncertainty and things left _unspoken _between them.

But she's desperate enough to grab at this chance, to have what she's craved for as long as she could remember. And it's not what she'd have expected from Emily – gentle and loving and _reverent_ – instead it's rough and needy but it gets her hot all the same.

The phone rings when Emily's mouth is working once again down the slope of Alison's neck – her fingers pinching at her nipples and leaving her with a growing ache between her thighs, and she'd be surprised if the brunette couldn't feel how wet she is even through her jeans – startling the both of them. Alison almost pouts when Emily pulls away from her to answer it, because she's pretty sure that she's never going to get to have _this _again, but she schools her expression into one of casual indifference when Emily puts the phone down and turns back to face her (though she supposes her heaving chest and flushed cheeks and bruised lips kind of mess that up for her, a little).

"It's fixed," is all Emily says, and she can barely _look _at her and god, when had things come to this? When had she become such an awful person, in Emily's eyes, that she'd rather look at the floor instead of at her?

How had she fucked this up so badly?

She doesn't have a chance to reply before the elevator lurches, finally continuing its journey upwards, and she _still _doesn't know what to say when it stops at what she knows is Emily's floor. As the doors open and Emily makes to walk away she finds her voice, scrambling forward to grab at her wrist before she can leave.

"Em, wait - "

"Do you think this changes anything between us?" Emily rips her arm out of Alison's grasp, that fury back in her eyes and her words but that self-revulsion is there, too. "Because it doesn't. It _can't_. So just… forget it ever happened. It'll be the best thing for the both of us."

She can only stand and watch Emily walk away, right into Paige's arms, who must've realized what had happened to her girlfriend and waits anxiously a few steps away – she can't bring herself to turn away even when their lips meet in a kiss, and she can't even feel a rush of vindication at knowing that just mere minutes before, Emily's mouth had been on her, and it's only when the doors shut in-front of her that she realizes that her vision has gone blurry with tears.

She knows that Emily's right, that forgetting about what had just happened would be the best thing for her – but she can remember every second of it all too well, knows that she'll replay this memory over and over again (in her waking moments and in her sleeping ones) – but she knows that it's easier said than done, because she still remembers that other night, so long ago, weeks later, and all the ones before that.

She remembers each and every kiss she's shared with Emily Fields with perfect clarity, and the day that she forgets even just a second of any of them is a day she'd rather die than have to face.


End file.
